


Silver and Blood

by BepsiiCola



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Found Family, HIT ME WITH THAT GOOD SHIT, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character - Freeform, Period Typical Attitudes, Period Typical Violence, Pre-Game Events, Rating May Change, Reluctant Partners to Friends to Lovers, Suspense, The Drama, probably a lot of tropes, the absolute glacial crawl of another slowburn, the romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-08-26 22:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BepsiiCola/pseuds/BepsiiCola
Summary: Set two and a half years before the events of the Blackwater Ferry Heist, Arthur and the gang run into a fairly unusual character. Anastasia Bradly, assuming the name and identity of “Abel”, joins the ragtag group of outlaws with her own personal agenda. Ana is paired with Arthur at the behest of Dutch to settle a few marks that Ana has found, along with the promise of more money than they can carry – which would have been perfect, if there were any money involved. And if she hadn't lied about the entire thing.*Currently on hiatus*





	1. A Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I beta read this garbage like a dozen times but I'm sure these 10/20 eyes missed some shit. Regardless, enjoy.  
> Updates are scheduled bi-weekly

 

Summer heat caused sweat to bead against her brow, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. Useless. Every single one of these bastards. She grabbed the lapels on the slumped body, blood smearing against her fingers from the fresh bullet wound in the man's chest. Her other hand ghosted over the worn fabric, patting and looking for anything of value. Inside, she found fifty-seven cents. It wasn't much, and she didn't need money. She needed information. The information the O'Driscolls gave her had been bogus, so taking matters into her own hands seemed to the be the only way to fix this. It wasn't much further to their camp.“One of you bastards has to have it,” Ana muttered through the black fabric of her mask. “C'mon.” Shoving the dead man down with more intensity than was actually needed, she stood and made her way to the next body. It was a group of bounty hunters, and she had gotten word that someone in this group had papers on them. Papers that she needed.

So far, the last four bodies hadn't given her much hope, and she was beginning to think this “tip” was a bust. A warm breeze rustled the trees, carrying the sickly sweet scent of grass and animal along with it. Grass bent beneath her heavy shoes, reaching the next body and bending. Fingers poked inside his pants pockets, jacket pocket, shirt pocket. Nothing. “God dammit.” She growled, shutting her eyes for a moment. She had to think. There was something she could do, wasn't there?

Looking back the body, she realized a brown, leather strap crossed his chest. A satchel? That had to have something. Lifting the body, she reached beneath him and pulled forth the bag. The buckle broken; faded leather soft under her touch. She figured if there was any God that had any mercy, the papers would be in this bag.

Or maybe God had mercy on those men, knowing what she had planned. “I swear, I heard gunshots over here.” A voice suddenly broke through the air, just as her hand was about to open the flap of the bag. Shit. She hadn't expected more, and she was almost out of ammunition. Ana tugged on the bag, but it was firmly planted beneath the man's body. Vaguely, she could see the outlines of bodies on the other side of the trees. _Shit._ She didn't have time to reach for her knife and try to cut it free. She would just have to hope that they wouldn't take the papers, if they were even in there.

Shouldering the rifle, she quickly made her way to the edge of the woods, taking cover behind a large tree. Just in time, too. “Well, you were right about gunshots.” The woman glanced over, seeing two figures standing over the bodies. Both men, broad in stature and holding rifles in their hands and at their hips, pistols. “Blood ain't set, this was recent.” The man with fair hair spoke, glancing around the surrounding area. “Thinkin' they could still be around?” The second voice was raspier, belonging to a man with dark hair. “Somethin' like that. You go that way, I'll take a look and see if there's anything on these fellers that'll tell us something.” _Shit._ It was too much to hope for that they would just walk off together.

Her fingers tightened against the rifle barrel, swallowing the lump in her throat. A bead of sweat dripped, falling into her eye. Shaking her head, she returned her gaze to the man who was crouched over the bodies. He had to have noticed that they hadn't just fallen like that, their pockets turned out and jackets splayed open. She continued to mutter under her breath for him to _not_ go near the body, not the one with the satchel. But again, whatever God there was clearly showed her no favor in what she wanted or felt she needed.

Her eyes fixated on him, a knife coming from the holster on his hip and sawing through the worn leather. He seemed to be inspecting it, turning it over before reaching a hand for the flap. That, she couldn't let happen.

Exiting the cover of the tree, she raised her gun and approached him. T she spoke. “Drop the bag. Now.”

“Woah there, no reason to point a gun at me.” His hands went up at his sides, the bag still firmly gripped in his left hand. “I won't point it if you drop it.” The last words came out in a growl, moving the barrel of the gun from his chest to the bag, then to the ground. “Now.”

“What's so important in this here bag?” Blue eyes shifted to the item in hand and then back to her. “Must be something big if you wanna shoot me over it.”

“I don't wanna shoot you. I just want you to put it down and walk away, ain't none of this here concern you.” A light chuckle came from him, opening his hand and letting the bag drop.

“Back up.” She commanded, taking a step froward. Shoving the gun forward, the man finally took a step back. Keeping the gun trained on him, she closed the gap between them. Stopping, she bent to grab the bag.

She felt something hard press against the space between her shoulder blades. Fuck. There was the other one. “Don't move.” She turned her head, getting a look at the man behind her. It would be stupid to try anything. “Put the gun down, slowly.” His voice was even rougher now that she was close enough to fully hear it. Heading his words, she sank to her knees and placed the rifle on the ground. The man in front of her quickly bent, snatching the bag and flipping open the flap. “Now let's see what's so,” he paused, pulling back a dirt covered hand and. A stack of bills.

Ana was thankful her face was covered with a bandanna. “How much is in there?” The man behind her asked. “Gotta be at least a couple hundred, no wonder you were tryin' to put a bullet in me.”

“I wasn't gonna.” She grumbled out the response. When she got up that morning, she didn't expect this is how it would go. “Check the bag on him.” He pointed to her side, the leather strap clinging to her shoulder. She wasn't in the position to say no. “No sudden movements.” The voice behind her commanded, feeling a hand roughly grab the strap, pulling it over her head.

There was a rustling sound, papers being shuffled about. “Not much.” He sounded almost disappointed. “It's just letters.” She insisted.

“Uh, Arthur?” Their arms met over her head, a paper being exchanged. It took him a moment to read over the letter, the scowl on his face showing he clearly didn't like whatever was in there.

“So, you a friend of the O'Driscolls?”

“No.” She felt the pressure of a gun between her shoulder blades again, she straightened her back against it, looking directly into the man's eyes in front of her. “Oh sure, sure,” he gave a quick nod of his head. “That why you got a letter in here on where to meet 'em?”

“Tradin' information. Doesn't mean I eat dinner with 'em on Sunday.” She spat the words with more intensity than was probably needed. “He's about as funny as you,” there came a stifled laughter from the man behind her. “Shut up, John. What information you got, and more importantly, what do they have?”

“You think I'm gonna tell you?” Her eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, bending to meet her at eye level. “Oh, I think you will.” The words came out in a low growl, a dirt covered hand reaching out and grabbing the bandanna just below her chin and pulling it down forcefully.

“Looks like I'll be adding to the scars there, boy.” Ana looked towards the grass, keeping her mouth firmly shut, running her tongue along her teeth and trying to keep her composure the best she could. Arthur had moved around her, pulling a length of rope from his bag and beginning to loop them around her wrists. “I hit a nerve with that?” The question held a mocking tone, but she said nothing in response. “You got a horse around here?” This time, John was the one who spoke. So far, she greatly preferred him. “Yeah. Over there in the woods.” She gestured with her head in the general direction.

“I'll go get it. Cover his eyes and get him up on your horse, I'll meet you back at camp.”

John took a step in front of her, pulling the bandanna from her neck and quickly tying it around her eyes. Being blind put a certain panic in her, especially when she was lifted to the back of the horse. There was no shocked response or smart comment, so she assumed her clothing padded her enough. “You got a name?” John spoke, his voice echoing the strain as he pulled himself onto the saddle.

“Abel. Abel Lennox.” She hoped he wasn't going to be interested in small talk.

“Well Abel,” the horse started to move, causing her to fall backwards slightly before she was able to right herself. “It's a bad day to be you.”

The ride back to their camp was in uncomfortable silence, as well as being uncomfortable in general. The ropes bit into her wrists, rubbing the skin raw. She couldn't even tell exactly how long it had been before they came to a halt. Quite roughly, she felt herself be pulled from the saddle, stumbling along before she felt herself being turned and shoved against what she assumed was a tree. Her restraints were cut, but only for a moment as they were retied. “Don't try anything,” came the warning from John, the bandanna dropping from her eyes to neck. Another man with a heavy beard stood in front of her, assuming he must've been the one to help John. She said nothing as they walked off. Slowly walking her legs out in front of her until she was seated against the ground. It must have been from everything that happened and her lack of sleep, but she was suddenly tired. Closing her eyes, she let her head dip and drifted into a restless sleep.

Who knew how long she was going to be here?

Her eyes snapped open when she heard the angry blustering of a horse. Shaking the sleep from her eyes, Ana craned her neck to see what was happening. Arthur rode into camp, pulling against the rope that was looped around a horse's head. Her horse. A dappled roan mustang reared against the rope, sputtering. “It's a mean bastard, I'll tell you that. Tried to bite my damn hand.” She could hear him from across the camp, sliding off his own before tying it to a hitching post. At least she knew her horse was alive. She watched him move towards someone else, though unable to hear him now.

The sun began to sink behind the tree line, the sky turning a dusty orange, pink bleeding into the edges. Her eyes turned back to the ground, hearing the sound of feet approaching her. “So, this is the O'Driscoll you brought me.” Eyes snapped up to match the face to the voice. A man with dark hair and mustache that matched in color, a hat situated atop his head. His vest looked ironed, clean and in better condition than the clothes of the man standing next to him. “Y'all really think a single letter in that bag means I run with some gang I've barely heard of?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, realizing how dry her throat had become.

The man reached into a front pocket of his vest, unfolding and tapping the letter. “So you say, but son, this letter doesn't put you in a good spot. Names you, them, location,” he gave an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders, a small chuckle coming from him. “My hands are tied here if I don't know the truth.”

“I don't know none of 'em. I got what I came for, left and had to make a return trip.”

“Return trip? So you already met with them?” The tone in his voice shifted to an unusual easiness, as if trying to show that he wasn't apart of the group that had her tied to the tree. “I might've.” Ana's answer was short. If she hadn't come back to put a bullet in the skull of the fuck who sold her the information that turned out to be a dead end, she wouldn't be in this situation. “You don't seem too keen on sharing any information with us. Let me tell you, we may be bad guys, but we're not the bad guys in this situation.” He spread his arms, a laugh causing his shoulders to raise and fall. “We've no intention of hurting you,” the way the sentence sounded, she knew there was a _yet_ he failed to say.

“I'm sure I could make him talk, Dutch.” Arthur spoke, hands resting on his belt.

“No, no. We're in the middle of Summer and our dear friend Abel here is away from all water. I'm sure in a day or so he'll be more than willing to talk.” Dutch clapped a hand on Arthur's shoulder, gesturing him away from the tree where she was tied. “I done told you, I ain't with them!” She pulled against the trunk of the tree, earning nothing but a sharp pain through her shoulder. The man cast a glance back towards her, light catching dark brown eyes before turning away from her.

The passed by with agonizing slowness. Aroma of cooked food drifted from the stew pot, the idle sound of chatter. Against the light of the fire she saw Dutch sitting atop a box, a metal canteen brought to his lips. She bit her lip, feeling the skin break. She had to tell herself she wasn't thirsty, she could manage this. Figuring a way out of this would be harder than she thought.

At some point, her eye lids became too heavy to hold open, succumbing once again to a restless sleep.

She awoke to the growling of her stomach, pulling her knees to her chest in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain. Bleary eyes looked out into the camp. Rays of light peered through the trees, morning dawn casting a strange grayness on the tents. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. It was Dutch, standing outside his tent. Directly in her line of sight, he bent to the bowl atop a barrel, hands dipping in and throwing water against his face.

Ana swallowed the dry lump in her throat. If it was has hot as yesterday, it wasn't going to be any good.

As the sun crawled through the sky, as did the sweat down her skin. Licking dry lips, she let out a shaky breath. “Figured I'd come to check on you, and I must say, you don't look too good, friend.” Through half closed eyes, she tilted her head up to see Dutch sitting in a chair. The back was facing towards her, a tin cup in his hands. “Sure is a hot one today,” he tilted the cup, a small stream of water spilling out. Her body immediately moved forward, mouth begging for water. “I'm more than willing if you are.” The words were pointed, raising a brow and leaning forward.

“Stagecoach.” Ana managed to get out, smacking her lips together.

“Pardon me?” He righted his hand, giving her a moment of relief.

“When I got my information, heard them talking about a stagecoach. Payroll, caravan, somethin'. Sounded like a big thing, happening Thursday. ” her words were slow, staggered. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton, swallowing between words as often as she could. “Ain't with them if I'm willing to give you that.” Sweat dripped into her eye, stinging.

“Thursday? That's tomorrow, and you know where this is happening?” He questioned.

“Mostly, yeah. Mentioned the spot, what it was gonna look like. I know where.” She looked towards the cup, prompting him to move from his seat to kneeling in front of her. Pressing the tin to her lip, she greedily sucked down the contents, almost choking in the process.

“Glad to see you finally saw reason,” Dutch slapped her shoulder, hard. “And great to know that you have chosen to show us where this caravan is.”

“Huh?” Disbelief apparent on her face, judging from the amused laugh he made.

“Well, surely you didn't think I was just gonna let you run out of here on something you _said._ No, you'll take us to where this is supposed to happen and help us with it. You aren't one of them, right?” A small smirk played across his face. Never more in her life had she wanted to punch someone.

“Now then, I'll get our boy Lenny over here to cut you off that tree. Get a little food and water in you and we'll discuss the details.” It took a few moments, but a young black man approached the tree where she was. He was young, he couldn't have been much older than fifteen, if that. The ropes were sawed off, immediately letting her arms relax. They were rigid with soreness, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to alleviate some. “Go on, get up.” She let out a breath, struggling to get to her feet. It felt good to stand, despite the protest in her legs. “Lead the way.” She spoke, shuffling after him.

From her tree to the other side of the camp, she got a full scope of the area and those inside of it. It was a mix, she couldn't deny that. They eyed her with either curiosity or malcontent, she couldn't exactly tell. Beside the fire, he motioned for her to sit on a log while he walked around the bubbling pot that was hung over the burning wood. He scooped a large portion into tin a shallow dish, and handing her a fork. “Here's some water.” Lenny pulled forth a canteen of his own, handing it to her along with a spoon.

“Thanks.” Without trying to make much movement from both her arms and the slight fear that someone was going to shoot her, she took the metal container and set it next to her feet.

She wasn't sure what was in it, but it smelled delicious. Scooping spoonful after spoonful into her mouth, she hadn't realized how hungry she had been. Burning her mouth was past her concern, scarfing it down as quickly as she could, taking a break to chug the water next. “Damn, when was the last time you ate?” He asked, and she noted the slight concern in his voice.

“Ate? Two days ago.” Trying to speak through the food proved difficult, and it fell silent between the two of them again. “So, are you an O'Driscoll?” She forgot that the kid was there, turning to face him. “No. I ain't. Just a feller in the wrong place at the wrong time.” The words were quick, precise. She couldn't tell the look on his face, a mix between sympathy and a tinge of disbelief. “I'm surprised you let me use the spoon.” Ana grunted, setting the plate down and feeling the strain in her arm. “Ain't much you can do with a spoon, besides, in a camp full of people. You wouldn't get very far.” There was a light joking in his voice that she appreciated.

Holding his canteen, she held it out for him take. “Actually, feel free to keep it. I've got another one.” He waved a hand dismissively.

“Oh. Well, thank ya.” Though she had nowhere to put it currently, she leaned it against the log. “I appreciate it.”

“Don't mention it. C'mon, you ate. I gotta take you to Dutch's tent.” Lenny stood, waving a hand for her to follow him.“Lead the way.”

It was a quick trip, a warm breeze blowing through the camp. Dutch sat with his feet propped up, cigar in hand. “There you are!” He pulled the cigar away, blowing a puff of smoke and gesturing for her to take a seat. “We've so much to talk about.” There was something about his demeanor that was slightly off putting, taking the seat opposite to him. “So, this...heist, we'll call it. Tell me what you know.” Ana set her elbow on the table, leaning over slightly and beginning to speak.

“Like I said, it's either a caravan or payroll, but I know it's for the oil workers. Comes through every Thursday around noon, and it's guarded. Didn't say how well, but guarded. It'll roll through a cross roads and go South and that strip of road is completely deserted. Like I said, it ain't much but I know the place and time.” She finished, waiting for him.

“How many men do you think I'll need?” Dutch took another inhale of his cigar.

“Depends, but probably just a small group. Have some hide and cause a distraction? Should be a piece of cake.” Her eyes watched his fingers drum against the table.

“Well, you've been very helpful, Abel. We'll see if your information is any good tomorrow.” He stood, stretching. “I won't have you tied to the back of the tree, but Lenny will keep watch on you.” Dutch pointed the cigar to the boy, standing at the edge of the tent. “Any funny business, he'll shoot you.”

“I wouldn't expect any less.” She stood, following Lenny from the camp.

It would be a less than eventful day, but thankful to not be tied up. “I'm exhausted.” She told him as soon as they were next to one another. “We got a spare bed roll,” he gestured toward the back of a supply wagon. “I've got one on my horse, just walk with me to get it.” He seemed hesitant at first, but took the lead. They walked together, and she noticed his hand hovering close to the gun on his hip. “Kid, relax. If I was gonna do anything, I'd be signing my death certificate. I rather like livin'.” She spoke to not only ease the tension, but possibly his nerves. “I'm sure, but I'm not takin' any chances, sir.”

“Fair enough.” She hoped her guns were still on her horse, it would be a quick way out. But of course as they advanced, she saw the saddle had been stripped of any guns. Damn. “Hey boy,” she cooed softly, placing a hand against his broad face and gently patting him. She hadn't noticed, but Lenny stood further back from the horse than she thought necessary. “What're you doing?” She asked, amused.

“The said that horse is a mean bastard. Almost bit Arthur's hand off and Sean's when he came to give him hay!”

“Only with folks he doesn't know,” she stroked the horse's neck, earning a sound of satisfaction. “Ain't that right, Bitters?” He made a sound in response.

Pulling the padded bed roll off the back of him, she gave him a final pat before following Lenny to the designated sleeping spot. There was a lean-to tent set up on the edge of camp, several other sleeping bags were tucked underneath. “This is the spot.” She nodded at the words, looking around before unrolling her sleeping bag and getting down onto the ground. “What are you doing?” He asked, looking down at her.

“I slept maybe two hours tied up to that damn tree, and an hour the night before. I'm exhausted and I'm getting' some sleep. Consider me makin' it easier on you watchin' me.” She took off her jacket, balling it up and stuffing it under her head. She still had plenty of clothing to cover any of her curves. “If y'all wanna feed me again, wake me up for that.”

With that, she shut her eyes against the mid-day sun and fell quickly into sleep. When her eyes opened again, the sun was long gone. A dark blanket covered the sky, stars speckled against the black canvas. Rolling onto her back, she stared at the sky. Her eyes traced the constellations, looking for the star that shone the brightest. Her head turned, seeing Lenny sitting in a chair with rifle in hand. His head drooped slightly, and she assumed he must've fallen asleep while watching her. Still too tired to attempt anything, Ana decided sleep would be a better decision.

She awoke to the prodding of a boot against her side, groaning she rolled to see a less than friendly face looking down at her. It was Arthur, a slight grimace across his features. “C'mon, get up. You've got a busy day ahead.” The next prod wasn't as gentle, causing a soft hiss to pass through her teeth as she struggled to her feet.

“Help Lenny get everything together, we're headin' out as soon as you do.” He turned on his heels and walked off, Lenny soon appearing. “Friendly, isn't he?” Ana remarked, rubbing the spot on her back. “Believe me, you don't wanna catch him on a bad day.” He motioned for her to follow. They saddled the horses with the others, with the man climbing on first before Ana followed. It was nice to not have her hands bound this time.

The horse trotted to the edge of the camp, along with the few others that were coming with them. She recognized the ones from the other day and Dutch, but the other one wasn't as familiar. A man with a beard, she heard one of them call him Bill. As soon as they exited the area of the camp, she began pointing them in the direction of where the caravan was headed.

“We're getting closer to where the wagon is supposed to be, just on the other side of these trees. Better leave your horses here.” They did as they were told, sliding off and hitching their horses, beginning to make their way through the woods. Stopping at the treeline, they looked towards the road. The crossroad was there in full view, the sun showing that it was almost noon. “Should be any minute now.” She reached into her pocket to grab the watch, only to find that it was missing. Fantastic. Dutch began to issue orders, explaining what each person was to do. “What about me, Dutch?” Lenny asked.

“You're going to stay here and watch him,” he pointed a finger to her. “Can't exactly give him a gun, or he'd run off given the chance.” So much for her being apart of the plan and helping them.

“When you've been so hospitable? Perish the thought.” She rolled her eyes, which Dutch plainly ignored. “What, you're serious? You brought me along to be a nursemaid?” There was an apparent hurt in his voice.

“It's an important job, son.” Dutch insisted. The young man in front of her resigned himself to his position, offering no further comment. “Bill, John. You two take cover over those rocks on the other side of the road. Watch for my signal.” Just as the other two took cover, Dutch looked to Arthur. “I'll get the wagon to stop.” Dutch made his way over to the edge of the road, just as the wagon slowly began to make its way into view. She couldn't hear what Dutch was saying, but the way he moved his arms and general lack of concern on his part had her believing he had this under control. That was until one of the guards raised his rifle, prompting the man next to them ignore whatever instruction Dutch had given.

“Get down!” She yelled, grabbing Lenny's shoulders and shoving him to the ground with her.

“What? No! They need help!” He struggled to his feet, only to be pulled down again by his arm, Ana scolding him. “Do you wanna die alongside them?”

“They'd do the same for me.” Lenny jerked his arm away, pulling the pistol from his hip and sprinting off.

She briefly reached out a hand to try and stop him again but stopped, realizing that she was left alone. This was her shot. The horses were just a few yards away, but she doubted she could make it back to the camp and get her guns and Bitters. Fuck. Between her thoughts, Ana looked back towards the gun shots and saw Lenny at the back of the caravan. He wasn't a bad shot, and he was braver than she had him pegged for.

Almost as quickly as the firefight started, it ended. Ana emerged from the treeline, hearing a loud, angry voice. Directed at she assumed, Lenny. “You just left him there, after I explicitly told you not to!?” Dutch, no doubt.

“You guys were in trouble!”  
“We had it handled!”

“What is the big fuss, Dutch? We got the wagon, who cares if that guy ran? We got all his stuff at camp.” That came from Bill.

“Disappointing that I didn't leave then, huh?” She rounded the corner, looking at the group of men, half of whom looked surprised. “We'll deal with this later,” Dutch narrowed his eyes at the young man. Waving a hand, he motioned for them to follow the back of the wagon. Pulling back the canvas tarp, several lock boxes sat. A low, boisterous laugh came from Dutch as he climbed inside. “Arthur! Help me get this unlocked.” Ana leaned against the back of the wagon next to Lenny, casting a glance over to him. “You're brave, I'll give ya that. Stupid, but brave.” Crossing her arms and casting a side glance. Lenny so far had been the only one to show a semblance of kindness, and in some way she felt guilty at how Dutch spoke to him.

He said nothing, but she saw a small smile tug at the corner of his lips.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement on the ground. “Watch out!” She grabbed Lenny's arm again, pulling him forward as a gun went off. The wood on the wagon next to them exploded, chips flying. Before anyone else had time to register what happened, Ana was already beside the man on the ground. Kicking the gun from his hands, she knelt and grabbed the knife hidden inside her boot. Driving it down into his chest, a pained gurgle emitted from the man's throat before his body went limp beneath her.

Pulling the knife out, she stood, breathing heavily before turning her attention back to the wagon. Lenny sat on the ground, eyes wide as he registered the scene that just unfolded. Wiping the blood on her pants, she held a hand out to Lenny. “You had a knife?” Arthur asked, voice teetering on the edge of anger. “Sure did.” She responded, bending and slipping the knife back into the strap around her ankle. “Let me guess, you ain't happy. Though I'm guessin' that's a common thing with you.” Arthur started to take a step towards her before Dutch interrupted. “Enough! We've got to get out of here before the law comes looking for this wagon and why it didn't make it on time.”

After the money was pulled from the boxes, the horses were loaded and they headed back to camp. Ana watched as the landscape changed around them, the obvious silence was tense.

“Abel. With me.” Dutch spoke before they even fully stopped, and she was more than willing to get off the horse. She headed towards the edge of camp with him. Standing beneath a large, shady tree they looked out on the landscape together. “Well, no O'Driscoll would save a man of mine.” He didn't look directly at her as he continued to speak. “Though there is the matter of that knife.”

“I didn't use it on any of y'all, did I?” She sighed.

“No. No you did not. And your information was good,” he paused. “You're free to leave. Your guns and everything else, and your horse.”

“What if I didn't want to leave?” Dutch turned his attention to her, raising a brow.

“Figure this. I did help y'all and that was a pretty big payload. I saved your boy Lenny, didn't have to do that. Coulda ran and stole that horse of yours, didn't do that either. I can hunt and pull my weight just as good as any of these other guys you got, and if those other men weren't after me before, they sure as shit are gonna be after me now. You get an extra set of hands, I get a place I can sleep more than ten minutes.” Dutch gave a moment of pause before extending a hand, which she took. A firm shake. “I suppose we can see if you work out, Abel.” She turned to leave, stopping to speak again.

“That Lenny is a good kid. Maybe he shouldn't have rushed in, but you can't say he's not brave.”

Over the next three and a half months, Ana found herself settling in easily enough. She had her own tent from her supplies that she pitched on the edge of camp, and Lenny was quite thrilled to see that she was staying. He thanked her several times over, and seemed to vouch for her to the rest of the group. Miss Grimshaw seemed to be just fine with her so long as she stayed out of her way.

But for the first time in a long time, Ana was around a large group of people. And hiding everything under her clothes was harder in a camp. Tilly, a young woman whom Ana had come to enjoy playing dominoes with, had once offered to wash her clothing for her. “Are you sure, Abel? Ain't no trouble.”

“No, no. I can wash 'em. You shouldn't have to worry yourself with my clothes, just hand me a washboard and some soap and I'll take care of it.” She spoke the words almost too quickly, a wash of paranoia overcoming her. Tilly looked at her, brown eyes locking with hers before giving a shake of her head and a laugh. “Oh, if only more men were like you, Mr. Lennox. World would be a better place.”

“Oh, I ain't sure a world could survive if more men were like me.”

It became a routine for Ana to take more of the chores, insistent on proving her worth. She knew half of the people still didn't trust her, nor did Dutch allow her to carry her rifle around the camp. Couldn't exactly blame him, though the tension between Arthur and she had dissipated slightly. Ana wouldn't call them friends, hell, she'd barely call them acquaintances. But he didn't scowl as much, and she figured that was a step.

In the morning in her tent, she would use the linen binding she had used for years and wrap it around her chest. Her breasts weren't exactly large, but there was enough to warrant hiding them. Nothing too tight, and nothing too loose. The undershirt and button up helped conceal her curves, her chest looking nearly identical to a man's. She checked the mirror at least three times, making sure everything was the way it should be. Short, black hair stuck in different directions and combing it was nearly impossible. Red Ochre colored skin had endured countless seasons outside, giving it a rougher appearance than most, though it helped her in the long run. Dark, almond shaped eyes looked over her form every morning before deciding it was good enough.

In regards to her voice, John was the first to ask. It was an easy enough explanation – or lie, whichever someone would call it. She told them that when she was a child a sickness damaged her vocal cords and her voice would never get lower than it had been when she was eleven.

The weather was beginning to cool off some when Dutch approached her at the camp fire, speaking. “Abel, I'm thinking about heading down the lake to do some fishing, feel like coming along?” She looked to the others she was with before turning back. “Sure, can't think of a reason not to.” She stood, brushing her hands against her pants before following him. Bitters had also taken a shine to the camp, enjoying being around other horses it seemed. Saddling up, the two of them left from camp and made their way. Dutch asked her a few questions, mainly about where she came from and what she did before this. It was a mix of lies and truth, picking the parts she found most convenient while not telling why she was actually here. They stopped a bit away, allowing the horses to graze in the grass.

“I think you're fitting in quite well, Abel. Lenny seems to have taken quite a liking to you.” Dutch commented as they walked to the edge of the water, watching as fish jumped to bite at buzzing flies. “I figure he's still grateful for the whole savin' his life thing.” She clicked her pole together, baiting it with a worm and casting it out. “We're all grateful for that,” Dutch's tone with serious. “Truly. You had several chances to leave that day, and you didn't. And your help is appreciated around the camp.”

“Aw, c'mon. You're gonna make me think I'm important or somethin'.” Ana said in a sing-song voice, earning a chuckle from Dutch as he flicked his line. “I'm aware our first encounter wasn't...pleasant, but I'm glad that it's all behind us.”

She heard the soft rustling of grass behind her, turning to see that Bitters had moved to the grass near her. Grazing, he blustered softly. “Quite the horse you have, too.” Dutch nodded.

“Bitters? He's a cranky old bastard. The people I used to run with? Brought him in late one night and for a week solid we had every person try to break him, and they all came back with sore asses. When I tried, dunno if he was just tired of folk getting' on his back or maybe he liked me more than the others.” She felt a bite at the line, tugging and beginning to reel it in. “Looks like a big one!” Reeling it in, she had a Rockbass at the end of her line, probably about six pounds. “Not a bad looking fish,” a voice she didn't recognize spoke.

The both of them quickly turned, and the man held his hands up. He had tattered clothing, greasy brown hair and what looked like a black eye. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare y'all folk. It's just, my horse got stolen and I've been wanderin' out here for two days, I got a little camp set up but with no guns, I can't really eat. Do you think you could help a feller out?” He eyed her fish, a look of hunger in his eyes. They had plenty of food, and she always brought back rabbits or a buck when she went hunting with Lenny. “Yeah, sure. You can take the fish,” she moved to take the hook from its mouth before she Bitters made an agitated sound.

Suddenly, a distressed neigh could be heard and behind them on the road, a man rode past with a lasso around The Count's neck, another man behind him with a whip. “Oh son of a-” without another moment of hesitation, Ana reached over to Dutch's side and grabbed the pistol from his hip. Cocking it, she shot the man in front of them before running to Bitters. “Go, go!” She urged, turning and chasing off down the road after them. “Abel! Abel, goddammit!” Dutch's voice strained the further she went, but she wasn't stopping.

She had heard the fading voice, but she knew how important that horse was. She took aim, firing. Ana would be the first to admit she wasn't skilled shooting from horseback, but she had little choice right now. The men fired back, bullets whizzing past her. She ducked, trying to keep herself low. “Aim at the goddamn horse!” One yelled at the other, though he wouldn't get a chance to try the advice. One of her shots landed, right in his chest. He slumped, falling from the horse. Maneuvering around the body, she urged her horse on faster.

When it became increasingly apparent to the man that she wasn't giving up, and that a horse wasn't dying for, he released the rope. The Count veered off, the man speeding off in a different direction. “Dammit!” She growled, pulling on the reins. Part of her wanted to go after him, but she knew she had to get the horse. The woman pulled the reins again, urging Bitters towards the count and stopping just shy of him. The horse grunted, obviously still spooked. “Hey, hey, it's okay,” her voice was soft, soothing as she approached him slowly.

Dark eyes fixated on her, though the tension in his muscles became visibly relax, slowly beginning to calm down. Eventually, she was able to place her hand against the side of his face. Grabbing the rope, she pulled it off his head, tossing it to the ground. “Alright boy, let's get you home.” She clicked her tongue, and he surprisingly listened. She wasn't sure how far they had gone, or where she was exactly. She figured she would be okay.

The sun was setting as Ana returned to the camp. The Count followed behind her, showing no signs of distress or injury. “Someone missin' a horse?” She laughed lightly and slid off, her feet hitting the ground with a thud. The camp was in disbelief. “You got him? You actually got him! I thought you left,” Dutch put a hand on The Count's neck, rubbing his neck. “Not my style,” she lead Bitters to the post and threw his reins over the post. She was headed to her tent, chest beginning to feel sore.“Abel,” Dutch suddenly called out. She turned, raising a brow to him. He stepped forward to her, extending a hand.

“Welcome to the family.”

 


	2. Skin of Your Teeth

_Welcome to the family_ had been one of the last things she ever expected to hear, least of all from this bunch. But it was hard to deny the safety that came with sheer number of people, and the fact that they were all outlaws. The night after Ana had brought the count back, there was a party of sorts. Though mostly, Dutch had given a long speech while the rest of the gang drank themselves blind. Another month had passed and Ana was still no closer to finding the information she wanted. She'd sent a few letters to people who owed her, but so far, there had been nothing.

She started to worry that the trail had gone cold. She thought that because of her time here, those men would have long since moved on, or they would have caught wind of her sniffing around and fled all the same. Either way, she hadn't been paying much attention until a letter was shoved into her chest. “Just stuff for Abel,” Pearson grumbled, clearly unhappy he hadn't received anything.

“Awh, don't worry. I'm sure they'll mail you a wife if you just send a lil' more money.” In a slightly taunting manner, she waved the letter towards him. There was a sound that somewhat resembled laughter from Arthur.

Things had gotten better since the incident with The Count, and Dutch being grateful enough to her, had given her the guns back. There also came some semblance of trust with Arthur and John, seeing as how she hadn't shot Dutch when she had the chance.

Taking a moment, she glanced down at the letter. She knew that hand writing, and it was from the last person she expected to write back. “I'll wait at the wagon,” Ana held the off colored envelope in her hands so tightly, creases were beginning to form. Leaning against the side, she tore into it. There wasn't much written on it, and in some way she felt a pang of disappointment.

 

_Abel,_

 

_I trust you're well. Your mother and brother Sammy are doing well up North in a town called Passover in a small home on the east side of town. It is just on the outskirts, blue. Your father is still traveling for business and I have not heard from him in some time. Hopefully, you will not need anything from him quite as soon._

_Please be safe, you're a very dear nephew to me. I hope you're making the right choices in your life._

 

 

_-Marjorie_

 

Still worrisome as ever, she saw. In truth, she expected there to be more written, but with the way Ana had left, she suspected that would be expecting a little too much. Passover, so that was where she needed to go. It wouldn't be more than a day's ride to and from. She felt her heart race, palms beginning to sweat and her mouth go dry. She hadn't been this close in years.

She felt the weight shift behind her, completely absorbed by the few words she hadn't noticed they were back already. Stuffing the letter into her coat, she helped them lift what they had bought before climbing into the back of the wagon. Ana kept a hand slipped inside her coat, finger running along the smooth paper. Nothing else mattered now. Not these supplies, not these people. This is what mattered.

And Marjorie had even told her the name of the man. The only name she knew.

The sun was beginning to set sooner these days, the chilling air hinting that summer was beginning to leave with autumn beginning to take its place. Despite it being nearly dusk, as soon as the crates had been removed from the back of the wagon, Ana made her way to Dutch's tent. “Dutch.” She called out, seeing him sitting in his usual chair with a book. Cigar in hand, also typical. “What is it?” He noted the look on her face, shutting the book and setting it on the barrel next to him. “I got a letter today, from an old acquaintance of mine.” She patted the spot on her jacket. “Told me about this lead up in Passover. Wealthy banker, absolute mean of a drunk and the best part? Lives by himself.” Lying had practically become second nature to her. “Passover, huh? Pretty quiet town for a banker, I'd think.” He rubbed his chin. “Best place to retire. Some quiet little town, money to keep everyone out of your business?” She raised a brow, smirking and leaning in slightly. “You know it's easy money, and I could get it quick and fast.”

“You'd do this by yourself?”

“Of course, it's just some ol' drunk. Can't be anymore dangerous than Uncle.” They both laughed at that.

“Okay, okay. It sounds promising enough, and you trust their information?” Clearing the amusement from his voice, Dutch was back to being serious. “Of course. Never steered me wrong before.” Ana could feel the nerves in her body begin to tingle.

“Alright, you'll head to Passover in the morning. But, take Arthur with you.” Dutch nodded his head, reaching out to pick up his book again.

“Excuse me?” The tone in her voice caused a look of mild surprise on his face, clearly not used to hearing it. “You say it'll be easy, but I'm not sure about that. Consider it insurance on both your part, and the gang's.”

“You think I'm gonna run off with the money?”

“Of course not, but I do think you're important and I'd hate to have you die in a completely avoidable situation.” Despite the rise in his voice, there was a concern that she hadn't had directed at her in years.

Her shoulders softened, sighing. “Okay, fine.”  
“Excellent. Now, go find him and let him know.” With that, the conversation and the book opened. She hadn't even noticed that Molly was sitting just a few feet away from them, looking slightly cross. Ana offered a small wave before turning on her heels, headed to where ever she thought she might find him.

She found him sitting alone on his cot, the journal out and pencil in hand. She wondered what he wrote in there, and she could've sworn she saw a glimpse of a horse before he closed it. “Arthur,” she began. He closed the journal, laying it flat in his lap and turning his head up to her. “Got a job for us in the morning. Town called Passover, retired banker who likes to drink, barely a day's ride and we'll be in and out before you know it. Super easy.” She felt like she was pitching hair pomade to a bald man. “Quick and easy huh? Then why am I getting' dragged into this?” He looked exasperated and they hadn't even done anything.

“Dutch was insistent you come as insurance.” She watched as he looked at the ground, shaking his head side to side and sighing. “Save a horse and you get someone followin' you around as insurance and to catch bullets, is that it?”

“Believe me,” she began. “If I could leave you here, I would. I ain't in need of a little black rain cloud beside me for a whole day.” Arthur stood, eyes slightly narrowing. He wasn't too much taller than her, probably two or three inches. Though she was grateful for that, she imagined if she had been any shorter, she would've found him much more intimidating than what she did. “Just be ready to go in the morning.” Came the gruff, pointed response. He shouldered past her.

“Glad to see we're becoming friends.” She muttered, rolling her eyes and heading to her tent.

Morning came faster than expected, with Arthur telling her to get a move on from just outside her lodging. “I ain't taking that long,” opening the tent flaps and stepping out, fixing the fur lined jacket on her body. Colder months meant bulkier clothing, which made it easier to hide. He said nothing, merely turned and started towards the horses. She'd packed enough food to get them to and from there, though she was sure he had his own.

Saddling up onto Bitters, the two of them made their way from camp and started towards the town. “So, what exactly is this job?” She groaned internally, knowing she'd have to make more than she already did. “Just some crooked guy who's a real bastard. Don't got a lot of fans and he lives on the outskirts of town. They say he's got a lot of money, being retired and all.” It wasn't quite an answer, but it was enough.

“Just sounds too easy.”

“I hate to break it to ya, but not all money comes in the form of shootin' up a wagon and nearly getting shot.”

They both fell silent for a while, the only sound from their horses. He rode only slightly behind her. “I guess I never thanked you properly for savin' Lenny all them month's ago.” His voice sounded... difficult, as if giving thanks weren't something he was used to. At least not in this type of situation. “So, thanks.”

“He's a good kid. Little reckless, and stubborn as a mule when he wants, but he's a good kid.” She replied. “I figured you'd have left after that, Dutch seemed just fine with lettin' you go.”

“You jokin'? Those O'Driscolls could probably figure out who took that info and if they weren't wantin' me dead before, I'm sure they do now. Y'all got a safe group, and safety ain't exactly been easy for me to come by.”

“You ain't ever said, how long were you on your own before you joined up?” It was an innocent enough question on his part, though part of her still kept guard up. “Somethin' on six years now. Been a lot of movin', really only had Bitters through a lot of it.” She gave the mustang a soft pat on the side of its neck. “And me havin' and Indian daddy? Even less places for me to go, and besides, y'all are getting to be like family.” She'd really grown fond of the other members, especially Lenny. He reminded her of her first best friend, almost painfully so.

The time passed quickly,

Buildings of the town came into view, shadows that slowly gained detail as they approached. All she had to do was get to the house, and then everything would be settled. For this one, anyway. A cool breeze blew, looking down she saw her hands shaking slightly. She gripped the saddle horn, steadying her hands until the tremors quieted. The shakes shouldn't be coming this quickly.

“Should just be over there.” Ana swallowed the dry feeling in her mouth, pointing a finger in the direction it should have been. “Alright, well let's hurry this up.” Came the hurried response from Arthur. They continued on, barely passing through the town itself as they followed the trodden down dirt road. It was just a few minutes ride but sure enough there sat a small, blue cottage. Smoke piped from the brick chimney, and she knew the shakes in her hands now weren't from the alcohol.

“It'll be better if one of us watches the front, make sure nobody's coming. Take the horses 'round back, less suspicious that way.” She spoke, sliding off Bitters and beginning her walk towards the house.

Her heart was in her throat, a vicious pounding in her temples. She flexed her fingers: clammy and sweaty. She knocked twice on the door before she got a response. A man opened the door, and she knew immediately who it was. She couldn't forget his face if he wanted.

He was barely an inch taller. A lithe man with bright blue eyes, sandy eyes and a clean shaven face. “Who are you?” He asked, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing on my property?”

“You're Sammy, ain't you? Sammy Benslow?” She knew the answer.

“Yes, now I won't ask ag-” His sentence was cut off as her hand wrapped around his throat, pushing him inside the house and slamming the door shut.

Sammy struggled, thrashing his limbs. She slung him into the end table just behind his couch, knocking over the photo frames and ash tray, he gasped for breath, looking for something to defend himself with. She made her way to him, only to have the ash tray thrown at her. Raising her arms in defense, the man scrambled enough to turn, kicking his feet against her shins. She stumbled, giving him enough time to gain his footing and deliver a punch to her stomach. She felt the wind leave her, briefly gasping but knowing there was little to no time to catch it.

He threw another punch, catching her on the jaw. She stumbled, catching herself on the wall behind them. Sammy advanced quickly, rearing his arm back and throwing it. She moved with just barely enough time to spare, his fist going straight through the dry wall. It was enough time for her to make a move. Throwing all of her weight into it, Ana's punch knocked him to the ground. Her hand throbbed, but there wasn't time to deal with that.

She walked over, lifting her leg and slamming her boot into his face. The man choked out, a river of blood pouring from his nose as he cried in pain.

She bent, grabbing him by the sides of his shirt. “You and them others, where the hell are they?” Her words were drenched in rattlesnake venom. “The fuck you talkin' about?” Came the sputtered response.“You know the ones I'm talkin' bout. The ones you did the farm job with, man named Rumney hired you.” The man coughed, specks of blood landing on her bare hands and face.

“I..I don't know nothin', I ain't heard from them in years.” She raised a fist, connecting it with his jaw. More blood spattered against the floor. “You wanna be broken, bloodied _and_ a liar before I make you a dead man?” She kept her voice low, knowing the fight already caused a lot of noise.

His features were already becoming swollen, a busted lip and broken nose. In a vain attempt, he grabbed her wrists and weakly tried to push her away. “Give me their names and where they are,” she gripped his shirt harder, slamming him into the floor board. He gasped, and she could tell the wind had been knocked out of him. Payback. Sammy choked on his words, trying to catch his breath. “Give me their names, _now_!” She said each word slowly, low through gritted teeth.

“Ro-Ro-Roger Swilly, Martin Glas-guh-..Glasgow, Larry Shifter,” his breathing was labored, working the words through a mouth of blood and splintered teeth. “Benny Cuh-Corsina. I ain't got a clue where they at, honest to god.”

_Names._

The only thing Ana had for the past 13 years had been the company's name and useless identifiers the group had used. It'd taken her the past two years to figure out Sammy Benslow's name, and Marjorie was the one to confirm that was even real. “You got wh-what you wanted, j-just let me go.” His voice was begging, pleading.

“Strange how I ain't got sympathy for someone like you.” She spat.

“Abel! Everything okay in there?” Arthur's voice came from just outside the door, and she had actually forgotten he was there. Sammy's one good eye widened beneath her, hearing the name. “Everythings fine!” She called back, turning her attention back to the main. She didn't give him another chance to speak.

Her fist stained with blood, she stood from the corpse. Her hands shook, swallowing again, Ana headed into the kitchen off to the side. She ripped open the cupboards, looking for anything until she found it. Kentucky Bourbon, and a full bottle. “Guess you're good for something, Benslow.” She twisted the cap, almost dropping it as it came off. She felt the familiar burn run down her throat, taking a few large gulps before capping it. She'd save some for the ride home. Before she headed out the door, she noticed a stack of papers on the end table next to the entry way. It might be nothing, but she grabbed them regardless and stuffed them into her jacket.

Swinging the door open, she jumped a little when she saw Arthur. Fuck. She forgot about him. “Well, you got it?” Double fuck. “Jesus Christ, what the hell did you do in there?” He looked her up and down, stopping on her bloodied hand and the bottle of bourbon. “Guess it wasn't such a quick and easy job after all,” She gave a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. “He said somethin' about the bedroom, under the sink too. Think that's where the money is.” She stepped to the side, extending a leg and pointing her hands at the door. She bent her knee slightly, as if showing him into a luxurious estate.

He stared momentarily, scoffing before heading inside. Ana looked at the bottle, taking another long pull before once again capping and stuffing it in her satchel. It poked out, but it would be fine. When he came out, he had several bills in his hands. Shocking, to be honest. She hadn't expected there to be any money in that house. “How much?” Looking from the money to him, attempting to feign some type of interest. “Nearly four hundred. Not exactly the big take we were lookin' for, but not bad. There also wasn't anythin' under the sink.” He flipped through the bills, dividing it and handing her one of the stacks. “Well take it, it's your cut.” Arthur flicked his wrist slightly. She took it, stuffing it in the inside of her coat. “We'll take the long way outta town, think it'll be kinda hard to get past all these folk with all that blood.” She looked down, unaware of how much was actually on her.

A gun would've been cleaner, but the noise would've been too much. And besides, there was something satisfying about watching the fear in that one wide, blue eye go out that made all the waiting worth it. Getting back onto their horses, she reached inside the saddle bag and pulled out a small notebook and quickly wrote the names of the men down. Stuffing it back into the bag, she hoisted herself up.

Beginning the ride back, the shakes in her hands slowly started to ease. “There was a lotta ruckus in that house, and you did a number on that feller's face.” He kept his speed with hers while she cast a glance his way. “Told ya, guess it wasn't so quick and easy. Put up a little bit of a fight but we got the money in the end, didn't want?” She shrugged once more, turning her attention back to the roads. Despite the silence, there was a palpable tension. She could feel that he wasn't pleased with her response, but right now she couldn't care less. Ana had drink in her veins and the joy in knowing two of the six were dead.

And the world would be better for it.

There was a silence until they rode back into camp, and she quickly hitched Bitters. Reaching into her saddle bag once again, she pulled out a stalk of celery and handed it off. “Good boy.” She mumbled, patting his nose. He nudged against her palm, chewing the treat. Ana patted the bag on her side, feeling the hard glass through the material. Heading towards her tent, she caught sight of Arthur heading towards Dutch's tent.

Crouching and heading into her own tent, she sat in the middle with the flaps open. Opening her bag, she pulled the stack of papers she took from Sammy's and started flipping through them. “Looks like you were a liar in the end after all." She scoffed, holding the letter in front of her.

 


	3. Short Pier, Long Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absolute garbage bonding.

 

“Hey Abel, how old did you say you was? Fifty somethin', right?” Lenny chirped, a bright smile playing across his face.

“Oh, I see how it is. I let you take the shot on _one_ buck, and you're tossin' around jokes like that?” Ana replied, though a genuine smile came to her face. It'd been so long since she talked to anyone – joked like this – with anyone. She was grateful it was Lenny. “I ain't fifty somethin' kid, I'm thirty-three.” She sipped at her drink. “Though I guess the scar does add a couple years.” Gingerly taking one hand and rubbing the marred flesh. “How _did_ you get that scar? Tilly said you told her.” He seemed partially hurt his friend hadn't told him. “This old thing?” She rolled her eyes, seemingly uninterested with it. “'Fraid it's not an interesting story. Just got into a knife fight with a bear,” she rolled her eyes to him, winking playfully. “Despite what it may look like, I did _win_ that fight.”

“C'mon, Abel! Tilly said you told her you got it when you was savin' a kid from a stagecoach robbery. Said that the man came swinging at you with a skinnin' knife!” Lenny was seemingly pleading, desperate to know. “And you told _me_ that it was an unfortunate fishing accident,” Hosea sat across from them, a chuckle coming from him. “Did I really say all that? My memory must be getting' foggy.” Ana replied, a smirk played across her face, taking another drink. All the alcohol had settled at the bottom, and stronger than she had been expecting. “Well, since you ain't tellin' me that story, I got another question.” Lenny spoke, pulling his legs underneath him. She raised her eyebrows to him and nodded, urging him to go on while she took another pull. “Since you been around a while, you ever been married?”

She choked.

Hosea had a burst of laughter, slapping his knee. “What?” Lenny asked, looking between the two of them. “You really just come out and ask things, don'tcha kid?” Hosea's laughter dissolving into a minor cough before he was able to catch his breath. She coughed, pounding a fist against her chest while setting the cup down. “Geez, you just caught me off guard, that's all.” Ana shook her head, opening and closing her eyes several times as if trying to restart her system. “I..yeah, kid. I was married.”

She was the one thing she couldn't lie about. Lenny's interested was clearly piqued. “You was? How long?”

“Kid,” Hosea began, noticing the look on Ana's face. “You can't just ask those sorts of things, not..” He paused. “Not to people like us.”

“No, no. It's fine, Hosea.” She took in a breath, looking to Lenny. His face had fallen, clearly embarrassed by what he just asked. “It was five years, almost five and a half. Her name was Elizabeth, and probably the sweetest girl who'd ever rob you. Beautiful, had these gorgeous green eyes and hair that looked like brown silk.” A small chuckle escaped her. “Guess she was kinda our doctor. She could patch anything up, real good at keeping ya distracted too.” Ana's hand found the cup without her realizing it, taking a deep drink from it. The way Hosea looked at her, he knew what was actually in the bottom of it.

“We was trying to get out of the life, wanted to set roots down somewhere nice and just live out on a ranch.” Her eyes flickered to outside the small circle, catching sight of Arthur as he walked past. Where had he been, and how much had he heard? “Life..has a funny way of makin' sure you get what you're owed. There's that much.” She sighed, finishing her drink.

“May I ask what happened to her?” Hosea's voice was soft, sympathetic even.

“You may not.” She responded without missing a beat, earning a somewhat shocked look.

“I understand. I..I know words ain't gonna do much, but I just wanted to tell you that I know how you feel. Losin' someone you love, especially a wife, isn't easy. Hell, a lot of people don't come back from that.” The older man spoke with a certain wisdom, which she appreciated none the less.

“I ain't sure I ever did.” She looked to Lenny and then to the campfire. “Uh, sorry for killin' the mood there fellers.” Lenny quickly raised a hand to dismiss the words.

“N-No! I shouldn't have asked, really. I'm sorry, I-I wasn't thinkin'.”

“Don't beat yourself up, kid.” She stood, groaning. “I'm gonna turn in for the night, thanks for sittin' with me, fellers.” She tipped her hat, turning on her heel and began walking. Passing by Pearson's wagon, she grabbed a bottle of bourbon and headed for her very humble lodging. With any luck, she wouldn't dream tonight. Or she'd dream about her. Ana wasn't sure which she wanted more.

Morning came as did the usual headache, sitting up and holding her head momentarily before she found the strength to stand and get dressed. She'd had enough hangovers to manage them, years of practice helped. The sun hadn't come fully up, and she decided that she needed to get out of camp for a least a little bit. Fishing, that would be good.

Grabbing the pole from her tent, she took a seat on a nearby crate to inspect it and make sure it was still in good enough condition to use. “What're you up to?” The voice startled her some, looking up and seeing Arthur standing in front of her. “Just thought I'd get some early mornin' fish.” She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders, and was completely dumbfounded by what she said next. “Wanna come along?” It was apparently a surprise to him too, judging by the look he gave.

“Me? I ain't exactly a fisherman, and you actually want my company?” He pointed at finger towards his chest. They had spent some time together around camp, gone hunting a few times. Not exactly close, but she knew a few things about him. “Yeah, look, I know it's hard to apologize for holdin' ya at gunpoint.” She offered a smile, nodding her head forward. “But you did come with me on that last job, even though I know you didn't really want to. 'Sides, I'll teach you a trick or two, maybe you'll even catch more fish than me.” Ana rose to her feet, gesturing towards their horses. “Sure, why not?” Arthur shrugged. Either he had nothing better to do, or maybe he wanted to get out of camp for a while as well.

“There's a nice spot, river that feeds into a lake that's not too far from here.” She hoisted herself up onto Bitters, grabbing the saddle horn to steady herself from the sudden dizziness that gripped her. “You might wanna lay offa that stuff,” Arthur suggested, getting into his own saddle. Ana elected to ignore it. “Supposed to be some beautiful fish down there, locals say there's one in there that's big enough to eat a man.”

“Guess we'll see, won't we?” She was glad that he didn't try to push the drinking issue. She rode ahead of him, even if by just a slight amount. There was a cool breeze that tousled her hair, and she figured it was almost time for a hair cut. She would just hack it off on the outskirts of camp, anyway.

“Right down here.” Ana waved for him to follow, leading them down an embankment before bringing her horse to a halt. “You got some bait, right?” She reached into the saddle bag and pulled out the can of worms. “'Course.” He responded. She gave a slight nod, clicking her tongue to let Bitters know he was free to roam for the time being. At the river's edge, they baited their lines and cast out.

It was peaceful, really. The sun slowly beginning to shine through the trees, birds singing their morning songs and the slow gurgle of the river as it slipped by them. “Heard you talkin' with Lenny and Hosea last night.” He flicked his pole, attempting to lure in a fish. “Way I hear it, you been tellin' a lotta stories about that scar.” He glanced over, tapping his face to mirror where he scar was.

“Yeah, ain't you supposed to have given me a couple more by now?” She teased, though she kept her eyes on the water. “Yeaah, intimidation is more of my strong suit than negotiation, though to be fair, ya did have a gun on me.” She laughed at that, letting it trail off into a sigh.

“Though really, what is the story?”

“It ain't nothin' fancy,” reeling her line in and recasting it. “There was this feller in a bar, wasn't being too gentleman like to a woman there. Ya know, put his hands where they didn't have no business being? Broke his hand, but the bastard bottled me first.” Ana flicked the pole, feeling a small tug at the end of her line. “And that's it, wasn't no bear or stray fishin' hook. Just some bastard with a beer bottle.” He clicked his tongue, a low laugh coming from him. “What'd the girl do? Imagine she was grateful for you getting that feller off her.”

“She married me.” Arthur looked at her incredulously. Brow furrowed, and mouth set into a slight frown while he leaned his head back slightly.

“That's how you met your wife?” He reeled in the line, noting that the bait had gone missing.

“Nah, she was with the group I was in. That's just when she knew she was in love with me.” Her body suddenly craved a drink, though the only alcohol she had on her was in the saddle bag on Bitters. And he would surely say something else to her about it. There was a silence between the two of them for a moment. “How'd ya make it work?” A real curiosity in his voice, and she thought she heard a hint of sadness. “Make what work?” She licked her lips, trying to keep the thought of whiskey from her mind.

“Your marriage. What with this lifestyle, and all.” She wondered why he was so interested.

“Guess we just took it one day at a time, but I wouldn't really call that makin' it work. We was married but...well she knew I couldn't give her the life she wanted, the one she deserved. But she took that sacrifice. Wouldn't really call it anything great.” She bit her lip. Fighting a demon and a feeling was harder than one might think.

“Why, you lookin' to get hitched?” An airiness to her voice in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“That ship sailed a long time ago, my friend.” There was a lowness to his voice, despite the forced laugh. “Same old story, too rough around the edges and the like.” The way he spoke, it sounded like he was trying to feign disinterest, as if it didn't really matter to him. “She find someone else?” She wasn't sure how to continue the conversation, or if she even should. “Her daddy did.”

“Ah.”

Another silence fell over them. They were relatively quiet for a time, pulling in fish and remarking on their size. They tossed a few back, keeping the larger ones.

“Guess we must've scared 'em off with all the talkin'.” Ana commented, looking down at the rather sad pile of fish. “Huh, maybe.” He reeled in his hook, breaking down the fishing rod until it was small enough to fit into his satchel. Despite their seemingly estranged relationship, there was an ease when she talked to him. Similar to the way Lenny and she spoke and interacted. “Guess we better get back to camp.” She wrapped the few good fish in a blood stained piece of cloth, tying it off and picking it up. “Let's go.” Ana whistled, the horses quickly trotting towards them.

The ride back was quiet, with periods of small talk. Reaching the camp, it was much more lively than when they left. “I'll drop 'em off to Pearson.” Arthur spoke, already off his horse and extending his hands to take the bundle. “If you need a fishin' partner again, just let me know.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Thank ya, Arthur.” She responded, passing the bundle off.

Hosea looked up from his book, laying it open on a crate next to him before he walked over to her. “Abel,” her attention turned towards him. “Glad to see you and Arthur are finding some common ground, I'm sure Dutch will be happy to see it too.”

“Ah, we just spent the morning fishin'. Ain't nothin, really.” Ana pulled a brush from the bag, stroking Bitter's neck. “Well, I'm sure you'll both get to know each other even better on your next job.”

“You got somethin' already?” She was still waiting on a letter, and that could come any day.

“Might be, might be. Just a lot of here-say right now, but I'll have something figured out in a few days.” She felt a weight form in her stomach. A few days wouldn't be any good. If he was in the town she thought he was, it was going to be at least a two day ride. He could be long gone by then.

“You got someone else on reserve if I can't do it, right?” Hosea raised a brow to her, eyes slightly narrowing. “Didn't really plan on it, no.” That was his nice way of saying she wasn't getting out of this. “Right, of course not.” She let out a breath as he walked off, setting the brush back against him. “What am I gonna do, boy?” Ana mumbled to Bitters.

He, of course, offered no useful advice.

The rest of the day passed by with unusual ease, the camp seemingly settling into an easy routine. They'd been in this spot ever since Ana had joined, and it was beginning to really feel like a home. Grimshaw and Pearson could really make it homey, she would give them that. Grimshaw had even offered her one of the old chests for her clothing, which she accepted. It worked well as a table, too.

There was still a feeling of slight suffocation around the camp, and Lenny seemed to be set on avoiding her, or at least avoiding any eye contact. Mary-Beth gladly kept her company while Ana cleaned her pistol. Idle chatter, for the most part. Ana had to admit she enjoyed being around Mary-Beth more so than she should've. There was something about the way she spoke that reminded her of Elizabeth, as well as the two of them sharing a passing resemblance.

“Think I'm gonna take a little target practice.” Ana announced, flicking her wrist and hearing the click of the revolver barrel. “You up for some, Mary-Beth?”  
“Oh no, no. Guns ain't really my forte,” there was a sheepishness to her voice. “But thank ya for offering, maybe you can show me another time, Abel?” The freckles on her face scrunched as she smiled, and Ana gave a nod in reply.

Ana headed off to the far part of camp, stopping by the tent and picking up the empty bottles that littered the inside of her tent. She stuffed them into a bag, slinging it over her shoulder and hearing the clink of the bottles together. On the outskirts of camp, she found an old tree stump and set the bottles about in a spaced out pattern. She looked to the tree next to her, seeing a low hanging branch. There were a few tin cans in the bag, and maybe she could get them up there? It would be an added challenge.

Slinging the bag strap over her shoulder, she reached for the low branch and lifted herself up. She could feel her muscles tense, even with all the extra work she had done around camp, she still felt she needed to do more in order to keep them at a believable state. She reached for another branch, walking herself up the side of the trunk before slinging a leg over. Ana looked to the ground, noticing she wasn't too far up. She could probably go another branch or two. There was a closer one, and she merely stepped a leg out and hopped to it, grabbing another to balance herself. “What in the hell are you doin'?” Ana was already grabbing another branch when she heard the voice, knowing that it was Arthur.

She turned her face down, looking at him. “Uh, I'm puttin' a can up here.” She watched an exasperated look cross his face, one she had seen many times in her months at the camp. “What for?” He called back. “Target practice! Little bit harder to hit a can up in a tree than a bottle down on the ground!” He seemed alright with that answer, keeping an eye on her.

“Just don't fall, ain't worth much if you break your neck.”

“Your concern it duly noted, kind sir.” She spoke back in an overly fake, posh British accent.

“Ain't concern, just don't feel like diggin' a grave today.” Ana barked a laugh, climbing up the branch and setting a tin down.

Carefully, she found her way back down, leaving the few cans she had left on those as she made her way down. Her boots hit the ground with a small thud, brushing her hands together and wiping them on her pants. “Alright, think that's good enough. And I didn't break anythin' on the way down.” She raised her brow to him, flashing a cheesy smile. Her hand moved to her hip, removing the pistol and walking to the front of the stump. “Say, you're already here,” she waved the pistol towards the bottles. “How 'bout a little friendly competition?” Arthur rubbed his jaw, thinking for a moment.

“Sure, but I'm better at shootin' than I am at fishin'.”

Ana took the first few shots, two of the bottles exploding while the other four of her shots missed entirely. Quickly, she pulled her hand back down, hiding the trembling in her hand. Arthur stepped forward while she took a step back. All of his shots hit their intended targets, quickly aiming at at a can in the tree and knocking it down.

“You're mighty good at hittin' things that don't move,” she commented, looking at the shattered remains. “And you're mighty _bad_ at hittin' things that don't move.” Came the curt reply. Fair enough, she assumed. “Alright, you showed me up.” Setting the pistol back in it's holster before holding her hands up, acting as if she were surrendering. “Too bad nobody else saw it.”

“Trust me, I won't tell anyone how bad a shot you are.” The two of them walked back into camp, going their separate ways as they reached the center.

The next two days passed without much incident, though she had remained almost perpetually tipsy during the entire time. There were still no letters, no leads and no new information from Hosea. The only thing that had really changed was that Arthur and she seemed to be more relaxed around each other. Maybe fishing really had changed something.

It was mid-day when Hosea approached her, sharpening her knife against a whet stone. “Abel, finally got something solid on that lead.” She stilled her hand, looking up and squinting against the sunlight that assaulted her vision. “Hmm?”

“Fairly simple job. Got a man set up to meet ya in the nearby town, convinced him I was a medicine man and that I was sellin' the good stuff for cheaper than the rest, all you gotta do is meet him and deliver the goods. He'll be near the saloon, big wagon. Can't miss him.” Usual scheme for Hosea, usually putting in far too much effort in her opinion. It was easier to just point a gun. “Lemme guess, your medicine is just snake oil?” Ana held the knife up, inspecting the blade.

“You wound me, sir.” Hosea clutched his chest, looking mortally offended. “But it is, yes. Chances are he won't know until we're long gone or he is. Regardless, you and Arthur can take the wagon and get the money. He said he'd pay in full, so make sure you get that.” The woman raised her hand, giving a limp salute. Stuffing the knife back where it belonged, she stood and began the walk to the wagon.

Arthur was busy securing the crates in the back of the wagon, and she was slightly surprised at how many there were. “Hosea really goes out for this kinda thing, huh?” Climbing into the front of the wagon and helping Arthur into the seat next to her. She passed the reins to him, beginning their journey into town.“Yeah, Hosea's a natural born con-man. Could sell milk to a cow, honestly.”

“I know you been around with them for a while, but how long is a while?”

“Somethin' about twenty years, give or take. They found me when I was just a kid, rest is pretty much history.” The wagon turned at a cross road, rumbling down the path. She knew from milling around and talking with Hosea that Arthur had been around since the beginning, she just hadn't realized how young he had actually been.

The distance from town to the camp seemed like a much shorter than she remembered, and besides, it would be a chance to see if any letters came.

Rolling into town, she looked back to check the crates. She wondered what was actually in those bottles. “Ain't much of a town,” it seemed more like a blip on the map than anything. Not even a hotel in the town, and barely something that could qualify as a saloon. The wheels sank down into muddy earth, slowing slightly. He urged the horses on a little harder, offering a little encouragement. Coming into view of the saloon, she pointed to the man. “There he is.” She turned to Arthur. “You wanna do the talkin' or me?”

“I'll get it this time, don't wanna be here all day.” They slowed, and Arthur got out of the seat and thudded against the ground. He waved to the man, heading over to the other wagon.

Ana leaned back, looking on and hearing bits of their conversation. “Hey, ain't you that Abel feller?” Her attention quickly snapped to the entrance of the saloon, seeing several men standing there. “I'm sure I ain't got the faintest idea of who you're talkin' about, gentlemen.” Attempting to defuse the situation, though her hand rested on the grip of her gun. “You sure is that feller, I remember that scar. You're the one who took that stagecoach from us!” His voice was raising, earning looks from some of the townsfolk that were outside. “Abel?” Arthur's voice rose in question, casting a glance over to Ana before the men at the saloon entrance. “Now fellers, there's a perfectly good explanation for this..” her voice trailed off, watching as the man's hand went to reach for his gun. In an instant, Ana had hers and fired.

Blood sprayed against the paneling of the saloon, the bullet hitting squarely between the man's eyes. She ducked, dropping off the side of the wagon and hiding behind the side. “Goddammit, Abel!” Arthur yelled, ducking in cover beside her. “Couldn't find an easier way to deal with this?” He grumbled, taking his pistol out. “I'm sorry, you think I shoulda invited them to camp and tried to talk this out?” She peered around the wagon, ducking back as a bullet whizzed past. “Okay, we've gotta get a better angle,” Ana's eyes fell on a stack of crates across the road, next to a dilapidated building. “Head over there, I'll cover you.”

“I remember them cans, you ain't covering shit.” Arthur leaned out, firing several shots.

“Fine, cover me then!” She shouted back, feet moving as soon as she finished the sentence. She heard him mutter several curses. Sliding behind the crates, she peered over and fired. Between Arthur and her, some had to be hitting. Ana heard shouting, keeping her head down and peering out to fire. There wasn't that many, or at least she thought.

“Abel, we gotta go!” Arthur's voice rang out, firing a final shot into the last man. He pulled himself back to the wagon, grabbing the reins as Ana broke from cover, grabbing onto the handle and pulling herself up as well. “Go!” Turning around and keeping her gun at the ready in case anyone else came bursting from the saloon. “Dutch ain't gonna be happy about this,” Arthur glanced to the back of the wagon. “Or Hosea.”

“Least we got out with our skins.” She kept herself turned, though she lowered her gun.

“What the hell was all that?” His tone suddenly turning. “Things was going fine and you just start shootin'.”

“They were O'Driscolls, least I think they was. And I swear, he was goin' for his gun.” She defended herself, looking towards him. His face was set, hard and he kept his eyes forward. “We was wearin' out our welcome in this place anyway.” She felt bad, almost. The camp had been in a good spot, and the group seemed happy there.

Dutch was unhappy to say the least. Finding a new spot was necessary, and it would have to come quickly. She was surprised at how quickly they got everything together, though everything of hers fit onto her horse. Minus the chest, of course. Hosea had mentioned seeing another good area when he went scouting around, and they figured that was as good a plan as any.

The ride was long, at least it felt like it. And Ana had a sinking feeling in her gut that she had missed her chance to get the letter from the post office, and it would be absolutely foolish to go back and try to get it. She supposed she would just have to chance the ride and hope for the best.

Their new camp was in a spacious clearing, surrounded by towering oak and pine trees. It was dense enough to ensure nobody could simply stumble upon them. They unloaded the wagons, set the tents up. It was strange, seeing everyone work together. Some of the relationships were more strained than others, but Ana found it slightly endearing to see everyone pull together.

She found a spot under a tree on the edge of camp, pitching the tent before returning to get the chest. “You can move your tent closer, you know. Or you can just throw your bedroll over by us, ain't nobody gonna bite ya.” Lenny offered, looking over to the single tent. It looked lonely, sure.

“I'm a little more keen on my privacy.” She replied, though she thanked him regardless for the offer. She took a seat in the entry way of her lodging. Pulling out a worn, moleskin journal, she read one of the pages that she read often. The swirling script comforted her like an old friend.

 

_November 3, 1865_

 

_We have been blessed with a beautiful baby girl. Though the conditions of her birth were not what I had intended, she is screaming and she is healthy. I have the feeling she is going to look just like her father. The birth was painful, of course, though River held my hand despite me almost breaking it in half. He has not taken his eyes off of her since she came into this world, and I do not think that will change in the coming years._

_Regardless, the weather is getting colder and we have not found a suitable place to call home, and I fear we have not gone far enough. River insists that three states will be more than enough, but he does not know my father the way I do. Or perhaps, he knows him much worse._

_The name decided upon was Anastasia Maribel Bradly. River went outside the tent this morning and saw a young faun stumbling about with it's mother, and he has taken to calling her Faun. It is an endearing name. I did not think my love for him could grow anymore, but this baby has proven otherwise._

_We will leave this spot in a few days, once I have had a chance to rest and recuperate enough to ride. I hope we will find somewhere soon, I do not wish to travel my entire life in hopes of avoiding that man. With any luck and grace from God, he will forget about me and leave me to raise my daughter in peace._

She flipped several pages, finding an entry dated a few months later.

 

_March 23, 1867_

 

_Anastasia is growing fast, far too fast. I understand now what my mother meant when I grew out of my dresses faster than she could sew them. We have traveled through another state, though during the harshest parts of winter, we found accommodations at a saloon. I agreed to do the washing and cooking, River took care of the horses and manual labor in exchange for a room and food. The couple who allowed us to stay were older, and I wonder if River and I will be like them one day._

_Ana is becoming more aware of her surroundings, and she smiled the brightest I have seen when we looked at a plot of land for where we intend to build our future home. It is not much, but we hope that it can at least serve as a starting point. River has been reassuring as always, he tells me: “Florence, you worry to much, my love.” Worrying is exactly what will keep us safe. Complacency offers carelessness, something we cannot afford. Especially not now. My father is not a kind man, and I do not wish to think of what he would do to Ana if he were to find us._

_Regardless, the days are beginning to grow longer and I believe that we will both find work in town. I was able to sell a few of my belongings, which should be enough for a starting payment on the land. As much as it pains me, but we need the money more than trinkets. The necklace was mother's, but if it can fuel our future, I am more than willing to part with it._

 

Ana read the journal carefully, turning the pages treating them like rice paper. The journal had already been worn, the spine beginning to break. She had to be careful with it. It was all she had left. Fearing that she may start to tear up, she tucked the journal away back into its spot before reaching into the chest for the hidden bottle she kept. She'd been trying to cut herself off, though going completely cold was having no effect on her other than making her irritable and making the shakes come back.

She took a few long drinks before capping and shoving it back into the chest. She stretched out, taking her hat from atop her head and placing it on her face to block out the light that managed to come through. The drinks she took weren't enough to get her buzzed, but it was enough to calm the nerves and quiet the gnawing feeling in her stomach. Better than nothing, she supposed.

At some point, she drifted off into a light sleep.

A boot thunked against hers, causing her to jump awake. Pulling the hat from her face, she groggily looked forward to see a red head looking into the tent. “Aye, yer not dead after all!” Sean's accent was thick, and she wasn't even sure what the hell he was saying half the time. “What a damn shame.” She mumbled, rolling over onto her side.

“C'mon Abel, get yerself up! We're gonna go into town and have a looksy around, maybe even get a couple a drinks in us? Though I'm not sure you need anymore than what ya got.” There was a playful mirth in his face, and she snorted in response. Sean was the only one around camp who made jokes about her drinking, which were far more enjoyable than the concerned looks she got from Lenny and Hosea, among others. “Careful, kid. Sure you don't want any of your teeth on the ground,” she sat up, scooting forward and putting her hat back atop her head.

The sun had begun to sink, dusk settling in. It was her favorite time of day, watching the colors of the sky bleed in together before giving way to a star lit sky.

She stood, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “Who else is goin'?”

“Lenny, Arthur, and Javier.” He took his hat off and gave a fake bow. “Though the real star of the show is right here, lad.” She rolled her eyes, walking past him and giving his shoulder a shove. He stumbled back some, quickly putting on his hat and catching up beside her.

The climbed into the wagon, Lenny holding the reins with Arthur beside him. With Sean barely in, Lenny whipped the reins and jolted the horses forward. “Ey! You tryin' to kill me up there?” He complained, quickly seating himself. “With any luck,” Arthur replied. Javier and Ana both laughed, leaning back and enjoying the ride.

Air here felt fresher than back at the old camp, maybe it was just the change of scenery or something she was imagining. Regardless, it was nice to be out. She learned that they really didn't waste any time around there at camp.

The town was livelier than the last, heading into the town and seeing the lights of a hotel. A general store, gunsmith, saloon, and even a doctor's office. This place certainly had it all. The wagon came to a halt in a patch of grass a few yards away from the saloon. “Think the general store is still open?” Ana asked, sliding out of the back of the wagon.

“Probably, what for?” Javier asked.

“Ah, it's just something small. Was gonna see if they had any cologne in there.”

All of them stopped and looked at her, and she felt that she had something incredibly weird. “What?” She asked, blinking.

“You wear that junk?” Arthur asked, noticing the rise in his voice, amused by this discovery.

“Not all of us wanna smell like horse shit all the time, Arthur.”

“So you wanna smell like both?” He replied. She opened her mouth to speak, though anything she would have said would've been drowned by the laughter of the other men.

Once the laughing died down, they made their way to the saloon. Her face felt slightly hot. She'd been the butt of a joke before, plenty of times, but there was something about it that made her a little embarrassed. Before they even reached the saloon, they could hear the sound of a piano being played. A quick, cheery song being played on the keys.

It was bustling as they entered, and Ana saw the glance Lenny gave her. She nudged him, leaning down some to whisper. “Upside is it takes way longer for me to get soaked, I'll be fine.”

“Abel!” He spoke sharply, reminding her of a mother who scolded a child. She hurried away to the bar, beginning the order.

Beer, whiskey, and anything that had an alcohol content was ordered. She clinked a shot glass against Sean's, tossing it back and slamming it down on the counter. “Bartender! Another one for me and my friend here!” She threw an arm around his neck, pulling him in closer.

“Aye, ya hear that Lenny? I'm Abel's friend, too!” He threw his own arm up, resting on her shoulder in an odd, half embrace. “You two are a damn mess,” Arthur joked, finishing his own drink.

“Don't be mad there, English. Just cause you ain't got any friends isn't no reason to go pissin' on someone elses' friendship.” Sean's speech was slurred, making it even harder to understand him.

“Arthur's my friend,” Ana moved away from Sean's hold, putting an arm around Arthur instead. “Even with that grumpy, old face.” She laughed, stepping back. An elated feeling coursed through her veins, feeling the drinks pulse through her. The edges of her vision were becoming blurred, and she felt herself bump into someone. She offered an apology, taking her seat back at the bar. They drank more, almost to where Ana could feel herself reaching her limit.

Stumbling outside, she managed to only half-way fall down the stairs and lean against the hitching post. She could feel herself starting to laugh involuntarily at a joke that hadn't even been told. “What, you tappin' out already, Abel?” Arthur leaned over the railing on the slightly elevated porch.

“Not even thinkin' about it, just needed some air.” She hiccuped. There was a small sound of clapping that drew her attention. She focused her unsteady vision on a white, canvas tent and pointed. “I got an idea, how 'bout we go watch one of them shows?” His features scrunched in response.

“Why?”

“Cause I can't watch 'em sober, they're terrible. Might be tolerable when I got this much drink in me.” He paused for a moment before accepting the offer, having less luck with the stairs than she did. “I didn't even fall!” She bragged, reaching down and helping him up. She hadn't expected his muscle to feel that hard. Briefly, he leaned against her before righting himself. “You got a lot more practice,” he said. That was true.

Trying their best to not act as inebriated as they were, the man tearing the tickets looked at them with twisted features. He could obviously smell the alcohol, but regardless took their fifty cents and allowed them into the tent. It was one of the later showings, with fewer people than she expected. They crammed themselves into a back row, next to the edge of the tent. “Watch, you'll see just how shit these things are,” she whispered, thought it came out in a less than quiet voice.

A picture flickered on the screen, a snowy landscape as the narrator's voice overtook the tent. “Today, we have a tale of religion. In the cold midst of winter, a farmer plucks his way along the snow covered hills, coming to the base of an old willow tree.” The projected picture flickered, a farmer wearing a heavy coat taking steps, the slides repeating a few times to show his movement. “He notices at the base of the tree, a snake curled into a ball. The farmer thinks to himself, he cannot allow this creature to freeze to death in the snow.”

“See? What dumbass is gonna pick up a snake?” Ana put a hand over her mouth to muffle her voice, earning an agreement from Arthur.

“As he bends to pick up the snake, he notices the colors and pattern that cover the snake's skin. A rattlesnake, no less. The farmer hesitates, but reaches for the snake regardless. He mutters to the snake, “Let's get you some place warm,” and tucks him into an inner pocket of his coat.” Arthur scoffed next to her. The picture showed the man bending, opening the coat and stuffing the snake inside before bundling back up and continuing back to his homestead.

“The warmth of the farmer's side began to rejuvenate the snake, and the farmer felt something akin to pride as he realized the snake was alive. But, that would but cut short as the farmer felt something sink into his side.” They were greeted with a picture of the man doubling over, reaching inside and throwing the snake to the ground. “The snake writhed on the ground, spitting and shaking its tail towards the farmer who gripped his side in pain.” She rolled her eyes, as if the farmer should've expected anything different.

“The farmer looked upon the serpent, and asked 'Why? Why would you do such a terrible thing'? The snake curled back into its ball, raising its head and replying to the man: 'Did you not know that a snake in the bosom offers its host an ill reward?'” The narrator groaned in pain to mimic the farmer, continuing on in an omnipresent voice. “The farmer took several more steps, falling into the soft snow and realized that this was his fault. He would die due to his own foolishness, expecting something good to come from helping the wicked. Remember, if you continue to participate in unrighteous activities, you are not immune from harm.” The moving picture ended with a picture of the farmer laying still in the snow before cutting to black.

The two of them stumbled out of the tent, looking back. “That. That was horseshit.” Arthur declared. “They're always puttin' that stuff in there, ain't none of it just _funny_ , always gotta be some moral at the end of it.” Ana shook her head.

“Think we could watch a hundred of them and still not learn what a moral is,” he returned. She had to agree that he was right.

It was beginning to get late, the two of them returning and finding the rest of their group and finding them spilling out of the saloon. “We gotta go, Sean's starting to try and fight some of the folk in there.” Lenny had chosen not to drink that night, figuring one of them had to stay sober. Javier came through the saloon doors, pulling Sean by a suspender. “Let's go, let's go!”

“What happened?” Lenny spun, looking to them.

“Hucked a bottle,” came the response from Sean. None of them were in any real shape to fight, and the lot of them made it to the wagon. Lenny snapped the reins, and they tumbled back towards the camp.

Ana barely managed to make it to her tent, dropping the flaps before taking off her clothes and binding, curling under the blankets.

She felt like she slept only a few minutes, waking up to a voice outside her tent. “Abel! You awake?” It was Hosea, seeing his silhouette looming outside the tent. Her clothing was still rumpled, and she couldn't see the binding off hand. “Got a letter for you out here,meant to give it to you at the old spot but some things happened.” She could see the shadow wave an envelope some. Instead of heading outside, she reached a hand out and held her palm out to take the letter. “You're not so hungover you can't come out into the sun, are you?” Hosea asked.

“I'll be blinded if I come out,” she responded, head pounding. She felt the letter press into her hand, pulling her hand back inside quickly and returning back to the pile of blankets.

She tore the thin paper, pulling the paper out, her breath catching.

He was there. He lived in the town.

Finally. She leaned over, picking through the clothes in the trunk and finding the other binding linen. She wrapped her chest, pulling on a fresh pair of pants and a clean shirt, she stood and struggled to get her boots on. Her hangover seemingly disappearing as adrenaline overtook her senses, almost falling out of the tent. “In a rush, are we?” She stopped in her tracks, Dutch's voice catching up to her.

“Just, uh, was gonna tell you that I got another lead. Like last time, little further of a ride, though. Should only take me a few days.”

“Very well, I'll see you two in a few days, then.” Dutch spoke with a fluid ease, turning away from her.

“Two?” She asked, shutting her eyes and sighing.

“You and Arthur, he said it went smoothly enough but I'd rather someone keep an eye on you. Make sure you don't lose your head.” She bit her lip to avoid saying something.

She found Arthur sitting on his cot, recovering from last nights events as well. “Arthur,” she began. “Got another job for us, pretty much like last time.”

“If it's easy as it was last time, you ain't gonna need me.” Ah, there he was. The usual grouch she knew.

“Dutch ain't gonna let me leave unless you're comin' with me.” Arthur pinched the skin between his eyes, sighing. “Fine, fine. We'll go, just..give me a minute.” She nodded, going to gather her things.

It was an hour until they got their supplies and items, getting onto their horses and leaving the camp.

 


	4. Fish Out of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man, a lot happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I beat my self appointed updated deadline by a single day. Eat that, depression. Anyway, I've had a lot going on in my life and I wanted to say thank you to those of you that are reading, and dare I say, enjoying what I'm writing. I really appreciate every comment, kudos and bookmark. It means a lot, and it really is the little things that help.
> 
> Also my apologies if any of the formatting is off or looks funky. I tried my best to get it fixed but I'm both extremely impatient and lazy. Ao3 please, I just want my indents without jumping through hoops.

  
Birds chirped overhead, the horses keeping a steady pace. It hadn't been long since they set out on the road. If it were up to her, she would bolt straight to the town and head to the next one as soon as the job was done. Instead, she had to keep up the charade of lying to an entire group of people and have one of them constantly with her. It was getting to be almost too much, even for her. Part of her wanted to drop the act, but it would be more dangerous now than ever. Besides, she would be lying if she said she hadn't grown to like most of them.  
It reminded her of the old group. All the scrapes they would get into. “Where's the furthest west y'all ever been?” Ana asked. From the stories Hosea had told, it seemed like they'd been everywhere.

  
“Nevada, wasn't there for very long, though.”  
“Never been that far, mostly stayed up East.”  
“What, you mean like New York?” His interest piqued.  
“Ah, yeah. Marjorie was a lot like Hosea in that sense. Didn't like usin' guns when she could just talk people outta their pockets.” She paused. “She'd still shoot someone, just didn't like usin' that as a first approach.”

  
“Guns a lot simpler.” He replied, which she would agree with. Simple, though not always the most efficient. They did get quite a lot of money through the longer cons. The conversation continued like that for a while, picking up here and there before it lapsed into silence. It was easy enough to talk to him, though it wasn't the same as talking to Lenny or Mary-Beth. She couldn't place how.

  
They rode for the majority of the day until night began to ebb at the sky. They stopped at the side of the road, hitching their horses and pulling out the camping supplies. Arthur found kindling for the fire, striking the fire starter and taking a seat by it while she pulled the tent down from the horse. Her chest was beginning to feel sore.

  
It took her just a few minutes. After that, she spread the bed roll out under the canvas before taking a spot by the fire as well. “You always sleep in that tent?” She noticed that all he had was his bed roll laid out. “Yeah. It's for snakes.”  
“Snakes?” The word hitched with a laugh.  
“What? I don't wanna get bit in the middle of the night.” She reached into her bag, taking out a box of crackers and cracking open the tin.  
“Don't think there's gonna be any snakes to bite ya,” with the weather cooling, he was probably right.

  
“Alright, we better get some shut eye. Gonna be an early mornin' if we wanna get there before dark.” Ana spoke, stretching her limbs before retreating into the tent. She shut the entrance, beginning the process of stripping down. It was just to the long, beige underwear she always wore. She stripped the binding away from her chest and took in a breath of relief. She wrapped a blanket around her bare chest, taking in a breath of relief and laying on the rough bedroll. Sleep soon overtook her.

She found herself in a forest, wet leaves littering the ground under her bare feet. Ana looked around in all directions, seeing nothing but darkness beyond the trees. She took a step forward, any sound swallowed up by the void. It was too still. Not even a breeze moved bare tree limbs. She hugged her arms around herself, stumbling forward and looking for any source of light that would show her an escape from the area.

Nothing.

The expanse seemed to go on endlessly, no edge of the forest to be found. Her heart thundered in chest. Her eyes flickered to the left and right. She couldn't be stuck here, no. Wandering further enough, she came to the edge. A scarlet sun burned in the background, dimly lit red fog coating the empty wasteland that lay before her except a small house sitting on the far edge of her vision. Finally, there had to be someone in there.

Despite walking for what felt like an hour, the house never got closer. A burning orange illuminated the window, and she was sure if she just got close enough, somebody could help her. She trudged on, heavy weights settling into her legs from walking.

She still felt she was going nowhere.

Had she even gone anywhere? She turned to look back the forest, and froze. The treeline was right there.

Fear snaked through veins, a cold dread settling into her stomach. No, no. This wasn't right. She couldn't still be here. If she wasn't making any progress here, should she turn back around? She took in a breath, hoping to find another exit in the woods.

Instead, she came to a clearing, entirely too quickly. This wasn't here before. She stood in the center, feeling plops of rain hit her head and shoulders. It was freezing, and her clothes became soaked in almost an instant. She hugged herself tighter, her breath coming out in steaming puffs. A low, thunderous growl came from behind her. Spinning on her foot, she locked eyes with a creature.

A white and gray wolf stared back at her, piercing yellow eyes petrifying her. It circled her, teeth bared to expose blood soaked teeth. Flesh clung to its maw. It looked starved, beaten with scars and clumps of fur missing. Ana tried to take a step in another direction, but the wolf was suddenly at that side, jaws snapping at her ankles. She could feel the spit land against her bare ankle, quickly backing up only to hear another growl.

Another wolf. This one a deep, ruddy brown with the same yellow eyes. This one, however, looked much stronger. It’s full fur shifted with each step, it’s heavy steps leaving prints in the mud. She backed up, bumping into a tree. The area was closing in around her, feeling suffocation as the wolves stalked their way closer. Tears ran down her cheeks, turning and reaching for branches that were far too high for her. There was nowhere for her to go.

She was trapped.

Ana awoke with a start, breathing heavy and a cold sweat covering her body. Her hand scrambled for her jacket, patting around the pocket until she found the hard, metal container. Fingers trembling, she took the cap off and drank down the contents. That feeling of helplessness. Ana hated it, and she could at least drown the feeling for a while.

It just depended on how much she drank.

She was up before the sun, already dressed and already feeling the effects of everything she'd drank in the night. What was left in her flask, and almost an entire other bottle. Dying embers sputtered as she kicked dirt over them, snuffing out what little life there was. Arthur awoke to the noise, glancing at her and already knowing that the drinking had begun early. He said nothing.

They saddled up and started once again.

Anger burned a hole in her stomach. Dark eyes set forward on the road, thinking of every small thing she was going to do to this man when she caught him.  
The sun climbed higher in the sky, warming her body. Her vision swayed. One hand kept a tight grip on the saddle horn, the other held the reins. It was barely past two when they finally came to the next town. The area hadn't seen rain in quite some time, dust stirring as their horses trotted down the road. The letter was vague, just that he was in this town. The saloon was a good place as any to start. She managed to land on both feet as she got off her horse, tossing the reins haphazardly onto the nearest hitching post. She headed up the steps before Arthur, pushing past the doors and scanning the room.

It wasn't very lively, but it was early afternoon. Just two people at the bar, a table engaged in a poker game and two women fanning themselves as they talked. Judging from their clothing, Ana would wager they weren't waitresses. She took a stumbling step forward, grabbing a nearby chair to steady herself. Get it together. She shook her head, somehow managing to reach the bar. Taking a seat, Ana waved the bartender for a drink. She was vaguely aware of Arthur somewhere behind her, no doubt keeping a lookout. Once the drink was poured, she thanked him and spoke. “Listen, I hear there's a man 'round here named Roger Swilly, pretty regular o' yours if I'm not mistaken.” The words felt thick in her mouth. Anger and alcohol.

“He comes 'round enough, haven't seen him today though.” Someone else called his attention, and he left.  
“I heard he's done skipped town.” Wait. She knew that voice. Ana's eyes turned to the man next to her, breath catching in her throat. “Joshua?” The man took a sip from a dark green bottle, tilting his head over to her.

Pock marked skin, bright blue eyes and a mop of dark hair that poked out from underneath his hat. She recognized the small scar that cut through his right brow, and it looked like he'd gained weight since the last time she had seen him. “Didn't think you'd recognize me, A..Abel.” He leaned toward her, sniffing the air. “Not with that much drink in you.”

Her cheeks heated, eyes narrowing at him. She leaned in, voice low. “What in the goddamn hell are you doin' here? Ain't you 'sposed to be up East with Marjorie?”  
“Don't try that tone with me, kid.” Joshua's eyes looked over, seeing Arthur taking notice of them.“This is a favor to Marje. Couldn't get anyone elses' ass down here to talk any sense into you. Let's keep this friendly, you at least owe me that,” his voice dropped down to a barely audible whisper. “Ana.”  
Her nostrils flared, reaching out and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “Don't play this game, Joshua. I ain't got the patience for it.” He reached a gloved hand up, grabbing the fist and looking straight into her eyes. He still wouldn't flinch, not even after all of these years. “It's a virtue you should learn, Abel.” He spat her name out, spittle landing on her cheeks.

“Where the hell is he, Joshua?” Her voice was a growl. The grip on the fabric tightened.  
“You really think you ain't kickin' up a big fuss lookin' for these fellers? Heard you comin' from the next damn state.” Her eyes widened.  
“You told him I was comin', didn't you?”  
“This shit is gonna eat your future, Ana.” His voice turned from one of frustration to sadness, his brow softening as his face searched for something in hers.  
She extended her other hand, placing it on the back of his neck. She allowed her expression to relax, leaning until they were just inches apart.

“You got a bad habit of makin’ decisions in other people’s lives, and you know my future died with her.” With her full force, she slammed his head into the bar. The bartender jumped. The talk at the poker table suddenly stopped. Arthur stepped in beside her, speaking.“Which way you send him?” Ana stood over the man, putting a boot against his neck as he tried to collect his bearings. Nails clawed at weathered leather. “Which way!?” She spoke with more force this time, leaning her boot in.  
“N-North, outta town, goin' towards the woods. He gotta house up there,”  
“You better goddamn hope I catch him. Otherwise, I'm skinnin' you alive.” She pushed her boot with more force than necessary, turning towards Arthur and waving for him to follow.  
“Jesus Christ, Abel, can you not start a fight everywhere we go?” Arthur asked as they left the bar, trying to keep with her movements. Even with her being drunk, she managed to have enough control of her steps. She said nothing, pulling hard on the reins and bolting off in another direction. “God dammit, stop!” Arthur shouted after her, hitting spurs against his horse to catch up to her.

This wasn't the job that he'd been told about, and it certainly wasn't what he signed up for.

Hooves thundered after his companion, stopping just as Ana threw herself to the ground. “Abel! Stop for a damn minute!” Just as she kicked the front door open, he watched her stumble to the side as gunshots started filling the air. He hopped off, slapping Bodecia's side to scare her off. He sprinted, taking cover and glancing over. “I'll be damned if I let you kill me!” A rough voice shouted from somewhere in the house. “You're gonna wish that's all I'm gonna do to you!” Ana shouted back, leaning into the door way and firing several times. “Get out here and die like a man!”

Instead of hearing another pistol fire, there was the loud bang of a shotgun. A buckshot splintered the frame adjacent to Ana. Arthur leaned out, aiming inside the house and trying his best to hit something in the smoke.

This was not the way he expected this job to go.

There was a shuffle of boots, Ana's voice ringing out. “He's getting away, come on!” He followed after her, running through the house but to little avail. The man known as Roger was already on a horse, even if just barely, spurring the horse on. Ana took aim, firing several shots. It didn't take a scientist to see the way she swayed, there was very little chance in her hitting something in her current state.

“Fuck!” She shouted, throwing her pistol to the ground. She couldn't be this upset over a job, could she? “What's it matter if that feller got away? Didn't have to kill him, I'm guessin',” he watched her pace in a small circle around the gun. “Look, I doubt he took everythin', there's probably still money here.” She looked at him.

“Ain't no goddamn money, Arthur.”  
“What'chu mean?”  
“I mean there wasn't no damn money to begin with.” She put a hand on her hip. “I lied. Roger Swilly ain't no banker or crooked doctor sellin' poison to innocent folk. He's just some asshole from way back.”

Arthur blinked, taking a step towards her. “What the hell you mean there ain't no damn money? You're tellin' me I got shot at for nothin'?”  
“Nothin' that concerns you, and I didn't want your damn help anyway.” She waved a hand dismissively at him, taking a seat on the back steps of the house. “This whole thing, what was it? Revenge?”

“Yeah, somethin' like that.” She spit to the side, bleary eyes looking up at him.  
He clenched his fist, anger coursing through him. This dumb bastard almost got him shot for something like this? He couldn't believe it, even more, he couldn't believe he fell for it. He knew something was up with the other job, but there had at least been something there. “What 'bout that first job? There was money there.”  
“Dumb luck, bastards a bounty hunter, 'course he'd have somethin' stashed.”  
“Bounty hunter?” He was flabbergasted. Outlaws chasing bounty hunters, this was getting too rich for him. “You know what? Keep your ass on them steps, don't bother comin' back to camp.”

She tsked her tongue, looking away while Arthur stormed past her. He climbed on his horse, kicking her sides and heading off back the way he came. He kept his eyes forward, stewing in his thoughts.

A waste of a few days, waste of a ride, waste of everything. That's the way he saw it. His mind went through a dozen different scenarios of when he returned back to camp by himself. He figured he might as well try to ride as long as he could without stopping. But strangely enough, there was a part of him that regretted leaving Abel like that. And he had a feeling that even if told everyone that Abel had lied, at least one of them would go to look for him. He had done a lot in the past several months, even if he was drunk more than half the time. His mind drifted to Lenny, thinking about how happy he'd seen him over the past few months when he was around him. Arthur thought briefly of the heartbroken look he would have.

“Dammit.” Against better judgment, he turned the horse around and headed back to the town. It was dark by the time he got there, checking the hotel and saloon and finding neither Abel nor the man he had slammed into the bar earlier. He headed back to the house, looking around until he found tracks. He wasn't sure if they were his tracks, but it was all he had to go on for right now.

He followed them, dry grass crunching underneath hooves before the land gave way to more dust than vegetation. His lantern gave some light, holding it out and seeing an empty whiskey bottle on the ground. Well, he figured that gave him a clue that he was on the right path. He continued, following the shifting prints until the small, red glow of a fire appeared in the distance. He could feel the anger begin to swell in him again, though it dissipated as he got closer.

Ana was seated slightly away from the fire, one leg bent to her knee with her chin resting on it, the other stretched out beside her. There was a hundred yard stare in her eye, looking out to somewhere in the vast darkness around them. If she heard him get closer, she said nothing. Arthur hitched the horse nearby, walking by the fire and taking a seat on her left side. Again, the two of them said nothing. Perhaps they were both waiting for the other to speak first. Arthur was the first. “I ain't ever understood this whole revenge thing. All that anger just eats at ya 'till you're miserable, then you get where you want, then you put someone else in those same shoes you was wearin' and all this shit starts again.”  
“Anger's a lot better than grief.”  
“But you ain't lookin' angry now.” She wiped her eye with the back of her hand, though he wasn't sure if he saw any tears or not.

“You live with anger longer enough, it'll eventually tell you its real name is grief. That man and a few others,” she moved her eyes to the fire. “They took a lot from me. I spent a lot of my life thinkin' this feeling was anger, I needed it to be. Couldn't get anything done with grief, but anger? I can get a lot done with that.” Ana's voice trailed off. She adjusted her seat on the cold ground. “Guess I thought if those ghosts couldn't haunt me no more, that feelin' might finally leave.” His eyes steadied on her, inhaling and then exhaling.

“C'mon. Let's head back.” She looked at him in surprise.

“Camp? But-”  
“But I know what I said, just c'mon before I change my mind.” He may not have understood her want for this, but he wasn't going to leave her sitting there. “'Sides, you ain't bad company for fishin'.”  
She kicked dirt over the fire, the light from Arthur's lantern providing enough to guide her way. Once again, they made their way back towards camp. She rode behind him this time, quiet and seemingly distracted. “You know I ain't gonna stop goin' after them, right?”  
“Figured that.” He seemed derisive on the subject.

He grumbled something under his breath. The two continued on, riding through the night and making it back to camp near dusk the next day. Neither one of them said much, heading to their respective tents. She'd deal with Dutch in the morning.  
The conversation that followed was much better than she expected. Dutch seemed perfectly fine that they came back empty handed, and intact. Or at the least, he hid his displeasure well enough.

Several days passed, Ana trying her best to hide her disgruntled attitude at the bottom of another bottle. She was still pissed. Pissed that she got that close, pissed that Marjorie and Joshua were still playing keeper to her after almost six years. She clutched her side, managing to head back to her tent and hearing small curses. “Lenny?” She asked, seeing his back half sticking out from the entrance.  
“Abel!” He fell back onto his hands, looking panicked. “I was just droppin' something off for you, ya know for helping me the other day, and I accidentally knocked that book off your chest, the spine just split and the pa-”  
“What book?” Shaking her head slightly while trying to process what he was saying.  
“That old brown one, w-”

Realization dawned on her. She shoved past him, looking down and seeing weathered pages scattered in rough piles. “Goddammit, Lenny!” Ana bent, scooping the pages and finding the journal.

The spine had completely split half, pages still falling out as she picked it up. She was panicked, seeing dirt clinging to the pages from the damp ground, noticing the few dirty finger prints from the ones that he had tried to pick up. “I-I'm sorry, I didn't know it was in that bada shape, I can get another one.” Lenny attempted to reach out to help, but received a slap against his wrist instead.

“You can't replace this.” She turned, snapping. Her brow furrowed in anger, lip snarled. “Goddammit, there's mud, Christ, kid. Didn't I tell you to not come in my tent?” Her voice suddenly stopped, seeing the look on his face.  
Confusion and hurt. She'd never raised her voice towards him for as long as she'd been with them, not even when she drank. She watched him bite his lip. Ana set the papers on the chest, shifting to where she leaned against it. He moved his mouth to speak, and she didn't know if it was another apology or something else. She raised a hand, cutting him off. “Kid, this ain't a conversation for now. Just...Just go to bed, we both need it.” He said nothing, hanging his head and turning heel.  
Horrible, that's how she felt. She closed the tent, fumbling with her lantern so that she could see. Collecting the pages as best, she took a better look at the spine of the book. She knew it was going to happen sooner or later. Sighing, she stuffed the pages into the chest with the ruined book, burying her face into the blankets and trying to find some peace.  
She didn't dream that night.

Her head pounded the next morning, standing outside the building. The words **DOCTOR** were painted across a hanging attached to the patio roof. She bit back the bile rising in her throat, knowing full well this had been a long time coming. Part of her didn't want to, but surely he had something that could help her. Advice or medicine, maybe both.  
The bell chimed as she stepped over the threshold, looking at the small space. It wasn't overly decorated. A small counter that a man was seated behind. “Well you don't look so good, here for help?”  
“I'm hopin'.”

  
He lead her to an exam room, gesturing for her to sit in a chair. She did, and was met with a pair of cold hands at her throat. He massaged slowly, fingers palpitating the area. “So, what seems to be the trouble..?”  
“Abel. And I ain't sick like that,” nodding to his hands as he removed them. “Drink too much.”  
“Have you thought about stopping?” Her face fell flat, looking at him. He gave a nervous laugh, clearing his throat. “Sorry, just a little poorly timed humor. How long have you been drinking?” He looked to a clipboard, holding a pen and readying to write.  
“Dunno, last couple of years.”  
“How much do you drink, usually?”  
“Uh, far too much.” She responded, noticing the look on his face at her vague answers. “Bottle a night, more if it's there.”

  
“Was it always that amount, or did you increase over the years?” Geez, there were a lot questions. She held her head, groaning. “Got worse. Used to just be a couple beers, then it got to the harder stuff. Probably been two years since I was doin'..all this.”  
“Well, Abel.” He set the pen down, looking to her. “Addiction...well, it ain't easy. And with the amount of time you've spent with this, it really ain't gonna be easy.”  
“I tried stoppin' before,”  
“And you were miserable, huh?” She cast her eyes to the side, seemingly embarrassed. “Relapse is common, Abel. The main point is that you try to find a way to curb your cravings, is there something else you enjoy you could do when you want a drink?”  
“I'm sure I could find somethin'.”  
“That's something, then. I'm afraid there's no medicine to fix this sort of thing, but I can give you something for the symptoms you'll have.” The doctor flexed his fingers, looking at her a little harder. “And I hate to say this, but I don't recommend you quit completely. From how long you've dealt with this, that may do more harm than good.” He asked if there was anything else wrong. She confirmed there wasn't, and followed him out of the room. He handed her a bottle and told her it would help with nausea, as for everything else, there wasn't much. What a help. She paid him, stuffing the bottle into a pocket and heading out.

  
Returning back to camp, she hitched Bitters and immediately went out to find Lenny. She asked Karen and Mary-Beth, both directing her to the far side of camp and finding him sitting on a fallen log. “Hey, Lenny.” She watched him jump, startled by her voice. She took the seat next to him, holding a hand up to silence him from talking. “Don't, I just..I'm sorry. Shouldn't have snapped at you like that last night. Just.. drunk and mad, them things don't ever mix well.” She kept her face hard, looking out into the trees. “Not your fault, neither. Didn't put it back, and that thing was old. Couple decades. Everything breaks, but I guess I was hoping it'd last a little longer.”  
“That book belong to someone you knew? Your mother or father?”  
“Journal, and yeah. My ma.”

  
He reached into his pocket, pulling forth a pocket watch. It was silver, ornate filigrees carved into the polished surface, a green jewel sitting near the top where it clicked to open. “My father gave me this. Ain't a journal but..I get why you were upset.” She looked from the pocket watch to him, reaching an arm around and pulling him into a half hug. “Dunno what everyone did here to deserve you, but I'm damn glad you're around.” He laughed in response, leaning in.  
The coming days, however, were less than pleasant. Withdrawal symptoms were something Ana had dealt with before, but she always cracked and gave back in to alleviate them. This time, she wouldn't. Her hands and arms shook worse than they had before, and for that day, she kept herself away from the rest of the group in her tent. Her body broke out into a cold sweat, feeling cold and hot all at the same time.

  
And the headaches? Worse than any hangover she had in quite a while as she tried to adjust. Most of the people in the camp seemingly understood what she was doing, even if she said nothing about it. Nearly a week after she stopped, the symptoms slowly started to abate. They weren't gone; not entirely, at any rate. But she was beginning to feel like a person again, despite the unpleasantness that came with it. “Mr. Lennox!” The familiar voice of Pearson broke through the air, sending a dull throb through her head. “Whatchu want?” She set her pistol and rag on the table, lest her mood be tempted towards something else. “Well, we're getting a little low on supplies. Figured you could join Arthur out on a hunting excursion, you know, increase the chances of getting more than a rabbit. And you're lookin' a little better than you have, might do you some good to get out of your tent.”

  
Her eyes narrowed on him slightly, but he was right. Not only that but she'd been more that irritable lately, though she hadn't caused any fights. Yet. She agreed, though she wasn't sure if he was going to. They'd spoken some around camp since they'd gotten back, but it wasn't much. And with her detoxing, she felt it best to not push her luck in any capacity.

  
Regardless, Arthur didn't seem to care one way or the other when she told him that she would be coming with him. He gave a scoff in response, and as soon as they were on the horses they were off.

  
There was tension, that much was undeniable. Though she wasn't sure if it was her causing it, or him. She wasn't sure if she should try and talk, and even if she wanted to, her words caught in her throat. Ana felt bile rise in her throat, swallowing it back down and shaking her head slightly. “Ain't seen you with a bottle in your hand in a couple days.” She hadn't expected him to speak, much less about that. “Maybe I'm just getting sneakier with a flask.”  
“Sneakin' ain't your strong suit.” She didn't detect any malice in his voice, nor condescension. “Ain't my business but, glad to see you're getting' off that stuff.”  
She felt a strange warmness when he said that, despite the lack of eye contact or actual direction towards her. “Ain't seen you with Swanson in a while, neither.” He added.  
“Theological debate ain't as fun when you're sober.”  
“You believe in all that?”  
“'Course I do.” When she answered, this time his attention turned towards her.  
“I ain't peg you for the religious type, 'course I don't get why you'd believe in somethin' when you're not gonna get a good deal out of it.” That was a fair point.  
“If I'm not, they ain't either. And I gotta believe if there ain't justice here, gotta be justice somewhere.” They were quiet for a moment. “And it helps to think that them innocent folk get somethin' better than what they got here.”

  
He sighed. “Yeah, guess there's comfort in thinkin' like that.”  
She pulled her jacket around her a little tighter as a breeze rushed past them, turning down another dirt path. He told her that he had seen deer in the area, finding a suitable area and getting off their horses, grabbing their weapons and beginning to search the area for tracks. Her steps were careful, taking extra care to make sure she didn't snap any twigs. “There's some tracks here,” she pointed out. He crouched, taking a better look.

“Pretty fresh, must be close. Okay, wait over there, I got some bait.” She did as she was told, the dizzying feeling beginning to take hold of her head. Ana leaned her back against the tree, breathing beginning to become more shallow. Her stomach churned, bile threatening to rise once more.  
Arthur suddenly appeared next to her, crouching in his spot. “You alright?” She nodded in response, scooting away slightly. Puking on his boots was something she'd rather avoid. They sat there, looking around either side of the tree. She assumed whoever had the best angle would take the shot, and she hoped it wouldn't be her. “There,” he breathed, readying his rifle. The edges of her vision began to blur slightly. She heard the bang of a rifle, but then that was it.

  
She found herself on the ground with Arthur over her, a jacket stuffed under her head and his hands pressed hard against her shoulders. His brows were raised, eyes wide.“Huh?” She mumbled, sinking her head back into the jacket and grimacing. “Shot that deer and asked you to come help me, didn't answer and when I looked back you was just shakin' on the ground.” She glanced down, seeing dirt and leave clinging to her clothing. Her sense of balance felt completely off, blinking several times and looking at him above her.

  
She hadn't noticed how bright his eyes were, actually. “Get offa me.” Speech slightly slurred, she squirmed her shoulder under him. He quickly removed his hands. Her shoulders were sore, and she wasn't sure she was in a state to stand. “Where are we?” Her eyes darted around them, trying to place them somewhere.  
“Not too far from camp, went out huntin'. Look, what's your name?” She paused momentarily.  
“Abel.”  
“Well, you ain't hit your head that hard then. C'mon, up ya go.” He helped her to her feet, letting her lean on a nearby tree while he disappeared. Her arm trembled, one hand clutching her stomach. She had completely blacked out. What happened? Was that because she stopped drinking? The doctor hadn't warned her about that, but maybe even he didn't know. She stared at the ground, trying to understand what happened. A whistle broke her train of thought, their horses coming closer. She managed to get herself into the saddle while Arthur strapped the deer down.

  
They made it back to camp with no other incident, finding a quite happy Pearson when they handed off the deer.

  
That night, Ana ate her food on the edge of camp away from the rest of the gang. Her shoulders were sore from where Arthur's hands had presumably held her down, and the buzz of fear hadn't left her body entirely. Being out of control wasn't something she wanted to experience again. Not like that, anyway. “Mind if I sit here?” She jumped, slightly. Arthur stood behind her, holding his own plate.

  
“Ain't no law sayin' you can't.” Her response was a little gruffer than intended, and she heard tsk come from him as he sat next to her. The only thing that could be heard for a moment was the rustle of the leaves as a night wind blew through. “Look. You done a lot for the folks here, 'specially Dutch with how you saved The Count and all.” He paused, seemingly looking for something else to say. “What I’m tryin' to say is, you done lyin'?” She blinked, slack jawed.  
“That's a question, not a statement, and what the hell kinda question is that?”  
“One I'm afforded to ask.” His voice lowering, becoming slightly more irritated.  
“Yes,” she lied. “I'm done lyin'.”  
“You'd better be straight with me,” he warned, standing. “Sooner we can get this behind us, the better.” She raised her hand and offered an exaggerated salute. “Yessir, Lieutenant, sir.”

  
He stared at her briefly before walking off, leaving her to eat in peace.

  
Despite the arrival of December and the cold front, the weather returned to a balmy state. Everyone seemed thankful for that, not wanting to deal with a particularly cold winter where they currently were. “Hey Abel, you know what today is?” Lenny asked, throwing down a bale of hay alongside her. “Tuesday?” Lenny laughed, playfully punching her arm.  
“No, you been with us for six months!” She stared at him, blinking. Six months.

“That long, huh?” She rubbed the back of her neck.  
“Didn't think you'd be around that long, didya?”  
“I..I guess not.” She replied. Lenny's features softened, about to speak before she interrupted him. “C'mon, we still got some hay to move.”

  
They headed back to the side of the tent where the remaining straw sat. Lenny bent first, hoisting it. Mary-Beth suddenly appeared. “Hey there, boys.” She smiled brightly, catching them both off-guard slightly. “Hey Mary-Beth, what've you got?” Ana's eyes looked to the canteen in her hands. “Oh, I was just goin' to give Arthur some water, he's cuttin' wo-” A piercing voice suddenly cut her off.  
“Mary-Beth! You just gonna stand around all day or get some work done?” Miss Grimshaw stood several feet away, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. With her back to her, Mary-Beth bit her lip and exhaled slowly. “Abel, will you give this to him?” She shoved the canteen towards her without waiting for an answer. “And tell him to get that shirt off! It's filthy and he can't be runnin' around with that, it smells awful! There's a clean one on his cot!”  
“But!” Ana held the can back out to no one as Mary-Beth turned, hurrying off.

  
She and Lenny looked at each other. “Don't worry, I got this. You go make sure he doesn't die of thirst.” She sighed, heading to where they cut the logs.  
Arthur raised the axe above his head, swinging it down hard and splitting a log in two. “Ah, come to do some actual work?” He took a step back, looking at her.  
“Not at all, Mary-Beth told me to bring you this,” she handed the canteen off, watching as he took an immediate drink. “Also, she said she needs your shirt.”  
“My shirt?”  
“Yeap, 'fraid so. Said you smelled like shit.”  
“Just gimmie some of that crap you wear,” he laughed, picking up another log and setting it down.  
“Just hand me the shirt, she said there's a clean one by your bed.” He sighed, dropping the axe before grabbing the buttons on his shirt and making quick work of them.  
She had seen men shirtless before, plenty of times. But she wasn't sure what she expected this time. While he shrugged it off, she found herself staring at his chest, following the trail of hair down that disappeared below the line of his jeans.  
Strangely, she could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. Regaining her attention just in time, she caught the shirt as he threw it towards her. It did smell terrible. “Take a bath, too.”  
“Is that an order from Mary-Beth?”  
“No, it's from me.” He rolled his eyes, lifting the axe. She watched the tense of his muscles as he brought it down, the sheen on sweat on his bicep and brow.  
Ana realized that she shouldn't find this as attractive as she did.

  
Quickly, she left and gave the shirt to Mary-Beth who was bent over a washing board and tub. “Thank ya, Abel. Say, are you okay? Your lip is bleedin'.” Ana reached up, swiping her thumb across the soft flesh. She must've bitten her lip so hard it broke the skin. She hadn't even noticed. “Musta' been pretty chapped.” Shrugging it off, she left and went back to see if Lenny needed anymore help.

  
As the days passed, she found herself looking at Arthur more times than she cared to count. A lingering look, laughing a second too long at a joke, or realizing that she had been thinking about him in some daydream. It was nothing explicit...just strange. He'd asked several times if she was good, anymore of those convulsing spells or nausea. She would shake her head and tell him no, and the response was always a gruff: “Well, good.”  
The frost settled in halfway through the month, and she could feel it as she fumbled with the locked container on the back of a stagecoach. “Lemme just shoot it,” he groaned.  
“Look, I almost got it.” She grumbled, numb fingers finally hearing the click of the lock. “Ah-ha!” Stuffing the lock breaker back into her pocket and flipping it open. A jewelry bag, cash, and a couple of other high priced items. “Rich people really just take everythin' with 'em, don't they?” She asked, stuffing a velvet pouch into her satchel.

“None of 'em learn, apparently.” Trelawny had given them the tip on this stagecoach before disappearing back to wherever he went. He seemed rather eccentric to her, but she didn't consider him to be a bad guy. Though she'd only seen him a handful of times in the past almost seven months.  
“Well, let's get out of here, best not to hang around.” She nodded, sticking her foot in a stirrup and climbing into the saddle. They were about a day away from camp. The tip may have been good, but the ride wasn't. She hugged the jacket tighter around her, feeling the cold despite the layer of fur on the inside of the jacket. The trees were bare, thin fingers stretched out into the gray sky, resembling cracks. The ride was seemingly smooth, the occasional deer would get startled or a group of birds would scatter across the sky.

  
Something was off, however. Heading back the way they came, a wagon sat in the middle of the road. It looked deserted. A man stepped from around it, a mask pulled over his face and a revolver in hand. He took a step towards them. “Ain't no reason to make this messy, just get off yer horses and leave yer bags on the ground.” It took her a moment to fully realize what was happening. They were the ones getting robbed. Ah.

  
She looked towards Arthur to gauge a reaction, and she got her answer fairly quickly. He pulled out his own gun in turn, aiming and firing. It pierced the man's chest, a choked sound coming from him as he fell to the ground. More gunshots quickly filled the area, and Ana quickly jumped into the action. She jumped from her horse, slapping his flank before bolting to a tree for cover. She didn't know where Arthur was, leaning from cover and firing several shots. She knew she hit at least one, pressing her back against the tree and taking a breath before she edged out again.

  
Taking a step, her body turned to face the tree before edging out. A sudden pain ripped through her arm.  
Ana writhed on the ground, pain splitting her vision as she gripped her shoulder and ducked back by the tree. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She gripped at the wound, pulling her hand back and seeing a swath of blood cover her palm. This wasn't good, it wasn't good at all. “Abel!” Arthur shouted, hiding behind cover.

“I ain't dead!” She shouted back, groaning. “Wish I was, though.” She attempted to move, pain rocketing through her arm. She groaned instead, shutting her eyes and trying to fight back the pain.  
She wasn't aware of how long she'd been on the ground, the gunfire halting. “Come on, get up.” Arthur's arm looped around her side, the other putting her uninjured shoulder over the back of his neck. Her other arm twisted, her legs buckling under her. “I said, get up!” Arthur's voice came harsher, his hand digging into her side as he lifted her.  
She stumbled, leaning onto him for support. Ana had been lucky enough in her life to not get shot before. Grazed? Yes. Shot? No. He hoisted her up onto the front part of his saddle, climbing up behind her and taking the reins. He whistled for Bitters to follow, the horse whinnying before falling in behind them. She leaned forward, holding her shoulder and trying to steady her breaths. “We'll get somewhere safer, get that bullet out.” The edges of her vision faded, squeezing her eyes tightly.  
They stopped somewhere along the road, Arthur getting off first before pulling her down. Propping her up against a tree, he helped pull the jacket from her body. Where the bullet had entered, it would be impossible to roll her sleeve up. “Gotta take your shirt off,” Her attention focused on him, shaky breaths making her body tremble, pain continually pulsing. No, she couldn't do that. She wouldn't. When she made no movement to remove the shirt, he took the lead. Reaching for the buttons, she grabbed him with a blood covered hand. “Don't.”

  
“You wanna die, you dumb bastard?” He spat back, trying to move against her hand.  
It was no use. Her mind panicked, knowing that the bullet would have to come out. Reluctantly, she let go of his hand and worked the buttons of the shirt, pulling the fabric away from the wound. She kept her head turned, hoping that he wouldn't say anything about the binding that peeked from her undershirt. Instead, she felt her arm move. “This ain't gonna feel nice.” He sighed, and she heard a knife being removed from it's holster. She raised a fist, biting her knuckles as the tip of the knife dug into the wound.  
Stars exploded across her vision, choking on the pain as she tried to keep quiet. “Almost..” He mumbled, feeling the blood drip down her arm. “There!” He exclaimed. She felt a pressure leave her arm, looking back with dizzy vision at the mess on her arm. Bloody. A bullet hole that had been torn slightly by the knife. He stood, going to his horse and reaching into the bag and pulled out a bottle of alcohol. Ana held her good arm, thinking it was for the pain. Instead, he opened it and poured it over the area. “Son of a fucking bitch!” She yelled, jerking her arm away. Bad move. More pain.

  
The woman reached out, grabbing the bottle from him and knocking back several drinks before glaring at him. He looked to the bottle. “I coulda left that damn thing in ya, you know.” He spoke in a low voice.  
“I got a needle, stitches in the bag.” Ignoring what he said.  
“I ain't stitched anything in a long while.” Arthur spoke, looking from her face to the wound.  
“Consider it practice then, dumbass. You tore it, you gotta fix it.” They stared at each other, Ana's chest heaving. Finally, Arthur muttered something under his breath, returning back to her horse and looking through the bags. He settled back in next to her with the needle and thread, looping it through the hooked eye and setting it against her skin.  
She took another heavy drink, feeling the needle pierce her flesh. That familiar burn. She missed it.  
A sharp hiss escaped through gritted teeth, keeping her eyes focused on the ground. She felt the needle pass a few more times before he cut it with the knife. She turned back, looking at the mess on her arm. “You are bad at this.” She commented, turning her arm and inspecting it. It wasn't pretty, certainly not like anything she had been used to seeing from Elizabeth. It would hold, though. “Least the bleedin' will stop.” He spoke gruffly, tossing the remaining needle and thread into her lap. She glanced down, seeing the binding visible.

  
Shrugging her clothing back over herself, she buttoned it and let her breathing steady, resuming a natural pace. “Don't do crap like that.” Arthur said suddenly. She focused her eyes on him, eyes narrowing. “Don't need to explain that you died out here to everyone else at camp. Not sure Lenny would ever get over ya.” She sagged back against the tree, looking out. It was getting dark, the road beginning to become barely visible.  
“Let's just set up camp. We'll go in the morning.”  
Morning came suddenly. Her movements were sluggish, the pain in her arm and the growing heat all over her body. She struggled onto her horse, slowly blinking. “You good?” Arthur asked, his horse trotting up beside her. “I got shot.” She replied.  
“Yeah, well, you ain't dead.”

  
They started on the road, the horse's clops shaking her arm and sending bolts of pain through her body. Her shoulders slumped, swallowing thickly. She didn't feel good, grabbing the saddle horn and holding it as tightly as she could. Arthur said something, but she couldn't figure out what it was. “Huh?” She asked, eyes looking up from the saddle to him. He turned his head, speaking once more.

  
Ana's hands slipped from the horn, hitting the ground with a loud thud. A low groan escaped from her, landing on her bad arm. “Abel?” Her eyes searched for the voice, looking around and finding Arthur hovering over her. She grumbled, shaking her head as he pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. “Shit, you got a fever.”  
“I'm fine,” the response was weak, shivering.  
“You ain't fine,” she felt his hands slip under her arms, wincing as he picked her up.  
She wasn't sure how he got her on the horse, looking down and blinking. The ground moved beneath them, his arms still tucked under arms with the reins held in front of her. “Just stay alive 'till we get to camp, you'll be fine.” Was that concern? She couldn't tell.  
“Gonna take a lot more than an infection to put me down,” though she wasn't sure she believed her words.

  
The world went black.

  
Sweating, she awoke in the familiar space of her tent. There was something heavy on her, seeing blue out of the corner of her eye. An old, worn shotgun coat was spread across her chest, the collar tickling her nose. “Glad to see you finally decided to wake up.” Her eyes settled on the figure in her tent, sitting atop the chest near the entrance of the tent. She struggled to sit up, gripping her shoulder before collapsing back down. “Wouldn't move too much, you ain't in the best shape there.”  
“Noticed,” she replied, taking in a heavy breath. “I'm thirsty.” He stood as best he could in the small space, handing her a canteen.  
She sipped, careful not to choke herself before setting it down near her leg. “How long we been back?”  
“Not long, but you gonna be out of it for a while. Don't worry about any of that.” He was referring to the rest of her business. “Arth-”  
“No.” Well, that settled that then. She shut her eyes, falling back asleep.

  
Her rest was interrupted multiple times by discomfort, shifting and trying to find a spot that was more accommodating to her situation. The tent flap was partially open, allowing cooler air to flow inside and chill her sweat. She was freezing, grabbing the inside of the jacket and pulling it in closer around her. “Still alive?” Arthur asked, stepping inside the threshold.

  
There was a tin plate in his hand, steam rolling from it. Her stomach growled. “C'mon, sit up. Can't eat on your back.” She struggled, taking the jacket from her chest and letting it drop around her shoulders and pulling it closed in the front. He passed the plate to her, sitting once more.  
“You ain't gotta play nursemaid. I know you got better things to do than watch me eat and sleep.” She put a spoonful into her mouth. “Maybe, but,” he drug out the word. “Feel a little responsible for you getting shot. Least I can do.”  
“'Preciate it.”

  
The rest of the meal was quiet, hearing the usual sounds of animals outside and the other members of the camp. “Anyone else come by?” She was curious, setting the plate down. She'd barely eaten. “Lenny checked in on ya earlier, same as Hosea and Dutch but you was asleep.” She figured that much, but she would rather as little people as possible see her in this condition. She was still wearing her over shirt and clothing that she had been shot in, knowing that at least nobody else had seen the binding.  
Ana leaned back onto the pallet of blankets, holding the jacket tightly. “You know, you ain't a bad man, Arthur. You ain't bad to look at, neither.” He seemed to shake the first half of her compliment off, though he stilled when he caught the last of it. “That fever must be eatin' your brain.”  
“Fever ain't that bad.” She replied. He leaned over, pressing his palm back against her head before speaking.“Nah, it's bad.”  
“You act like you're some terrible monster, but ya ain't. I seen how you talk with Mary-Beth, Lenny, even Sean when you think nobody else can see ya.” She yawned, eyes struggling to stay open. All she wanted to do was sleep. “Really, yer too hard on yerself, just cause one woman didn't see the good in you doesn't mean the rest of us can't.” Her eyes shut, barely registering what he said next.  
“Rest of us?”

 


	5. Smoke and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1897 callout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you had happy holidays! Took a small break in writing, but I hope you like the chapter! A quick little life update, I'm applying for graduate school this Summer! With any luck, I'll get into the program and I'll be proud owner of a Master's degree, writing certificate, and teacher's cert. Once again, formatting fucking hates me but I tried.

 

The infection swarmed her body like a hive of angry bees. Fever, sweating, vomiting, everything and more for the first few days before the sickness began to abate. The first day she woke up without feeling like complete death, Ana was overjoyed. The first time she could eat without puking, she thought that’s what ambrosia would taste like. Eventually, the fever broke and she could manage to stay awake for more than ten minutes. 

Her arm, however, seemed like it would not fully recover. Attempting to lift it further than her shoulder caused a terrible pain. Moving it too far forward or too far back caused the same amount. When she was able, she visited the same doctor who took a look at it. Told her the stitching was rough, but she survived at least. Whatever the bullet had hit, it tore a muscle. Chances were, she wouldn’t be able to have the same use of her arm again. 

She was thankful she still even had it.

It took three weeks to make an almost complete recovery. Between Lenny and Mary-Beth, the person who stopped by the most had been Arthur. She found it suspicious. Ana knew that Arthur wasn’t a complete jackass, maybe a good chunk, but not entirely. Some part of her was still cautious about how much she saw of him. The woman was insistent that she be allowed to return to her regular schedule. Laying in a tent for three weeks was enough to make her crazy. Dutch and Hosea reluctantly agreed, though guard duty seemed to be most of what she was doing.

Ana sat by the scout fire, looking outwards to the woods with the rifle leaning against the log. Her fingers played with the corners of the journal, fingers tracing over the indents of the writing. She knew practically every page by heart. It made her feel close to them - her parents. She set the journal next to her boot, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, sighing and feeling the heat reach her face. “You feelin’ alright?” Arthur asked, appearing next to her. How long had he been there?

“Anybody else ask that, they’re the one that ain’t gonna be feelin’ alright.” It was a constant question, and she knew it was because they cared. Regardless, it got tiring after a while. He held his hands up defensively.  
“Just a question, no need to go bitin’ my head off.” He took the spot next to her on the log, looking towards the fire as well. “So, you gonna tell me what all this revenge business is about?” He questioned. “Don’t see how that concerns you, still.” She stuck her hands out, warming them.  
“Now, don’t you start with this. I got shot at, that makes it my business. And it became my business when you lied to me.” Fair points. She sighed, rolling her eyes slightly before speaking.

“It was my parents, those men killed ‘em when I was ‘bout fifteen, ‘bouta be sixteen. Guess I shouldn’t complain too much, got my folks longer than most folk do.” She pressed her lips together. “Long story, but if you got time, I’ll tell ya.” He nodded, giving her the go ahead to begin.

* * *

 

The smell of clove filled their home, the crackling of the wood stove bringing sound to an otherwise quiet room. “Momma?” Ana asked, sitting on the hardwood floor while her mother braided her thick, black hair. Her fingers expertly moved, weaving the strands together. “Yes, Ana?” Her mother's voice was soft and even. “Am I gonna..Am I gonna get married soon?” She felt her mother's hands stop, a small laughing coming from her. “What on earth made you ask that?” Ana turned to meet her mother's gaze. Light blue eyes looked back at her, flaxen colored hair spilling around pale features. Ana thought she was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen.

“Missy, that girl down the road? Her Papa is making her get married, and she's a year younger than me. She ain't happy but she says she's gotta, that it'll help their family.” Ana's eyes watched a brief flash of anger in her mother's eyes before her brow furrowed, lips pursing. “First, you should say she is not happy, not ain't. Second, your father and I will never make you get married. Especially not at your age.” Her hand moved, brushing against her daughter's jaw. “Oh, Anastasia. Please don't worry about such things.”

“But Missy is gonna leave. She has to go live with her husband on that ranch up North, and she's the only other girl my age around here.” Her voice held clear disappointment.

“I know you really like Missy,” she tilted her head. “But these things...they happen in life, and we can't change these things.” Her mother's voice was quiet, and Ana wanted to ask what she meant by that. The door to their home opened, her father standing in the doorway. He was a tall man, long black hair that stopped just past his shoulders. “Papa!” Ana chirped, as if forgetting the conversation she and her mother just had. “Faun,” he smiled. She smiled, it was the nickname he had given her when she was still a baby. He had a bag slung over his shoulder, no doubt filled with whatever he had purchased in town. “I hope I wasn't interrupting anything.” A laugh creeping through his words as he walked over to her, holding the loose braid in her hair. She quickly combed her fingers through it, shaking her head. “No, no.” Her mother spoke, standing and giving him a kiss. “What did you bring us, River?”

No one else she knew was able to call her father by just a short version of his name. He made it very clear to everyone that his name was Still River, and people were to call him as such. “Just the essentials. And a little extra for you to make dessert.” He gave a wink towards her mother as he spoke. Her mother playfully pushed his chest, rolling her eyes. “You'll have no teeth if you keep asking for dessert.” She watched her parents continue their banter as they moved about the room. They emptied the bag onto the table, and Ana sat with her legs crossed as they worked.

There was nothing but love between the two of them. They both worked in the fields outside their home, took care of the animals and both hunted together. Ana remembered her mother telling her that River was the one who taught her how to fire a gun. There was no sense of inequality, at least not one she could see. “Florence,” her father gestured to her mother. “Are the clothes on the line dry?”

“Oh, they should be. Ana, would you?” Her mother pulled a stew pot from the cupboard, looking towards the door. “Yes, Momma.”

The summer air was warm, crickets playing their songs and seemingly becoming shy as she walked past with the basket. The clothes were slightly stiff and they smelled of lemongrass. Clean and dry. Pulling from the line, she carefully folded each piece and set it into the basket. It would be one less thing for her parents to do. Returning back to the house, she set it on the other side of their cabinet. “Thank you, why don't you read or find something until dinner?” She was more than willing to do that.

Evening came quickly, as Ana was lost in her book. There was a knock on her door, along with her mother's voice calling her. Dinner was simple that night, rabbit stew and fresh bread. They gathered around the table, extending their hands and bowing their head in prayer. It was the same one as always. When they lifted their heads and began to eat, Florence stopped and looked out the window. “What is it?” Ana asked when her mother suddenly stood, knocking her stool to the ground. “Momma?” She asked again, her mother shutting the curtain and returning to the table. “Get your rifle.” Florence told her husband, going to the bedroom. “Papa?” Ana's voice was beginning to show fear, looking around the room as her parents moved quickly.

Her mother returned with a bag, stuffed with several items. “Listen to me, Anastasia.” She pushed the bag into her daughter's arms, grabbing her shoulders and looking directly into her eyes. “I don't know if these men are the ones I think they are,” her mother sucked in a breath. “If they aren't, I'll come get you. If they are...” Her mother searched for something, a way to phrase the next thing she said. “If they are, I need you to keep running. You have to keep running and not look back.”

“Momma, what's happening?” Tears were beginning to sting in her eyes, looking to her father as he loaded his gun. “Faun,” her father took his turn next to her. “We can't explain it, not now. But we need you to do this.” They both wrapped their arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace before she was brought to her feet and pushed towards the back door. “Go, Ana.”

She did as she was told, clutching the bag and running to the edge of the woods behind their property.

The brambles gripped the hem of dress. She tugged it free, crouching and trying to find a better angle to see. Her fingers dug into the canvas of the bag, swallowing hard as she kept a watch on the house. A window in the back of the house hadn't been closed, giving her a view in the area where her parents were. She could hear nothing, but she could see.

Her father stood in front of her mother, rifle pointed towards people she couldn't see. There was movement, a hand gripping the barrel of her father's gun and jerking it. Her breath caught, putting a hand over her mouth and feeling the tears stream down her cheeks. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

Ana's body flinched as she heard a gunshot. A woman's scream followed, and another gunshot.

Dead silence filled the area. The wind in the area stilled, an oppressive heat creeping in against her neck as a sob choked its way from her throat. Numbly, she could barely find the strength to move her legs, edging around until she saw the front of their home. A full moon lit the area, grey light casting an eerie atmosphere around the property. Out front, several horses waited with lanterns attached to the saddles. The door to her home swung open. Her blood turned to ice.

Both her parents were slung over two of the men's shoulders, bodies limp and showing no signs of a struggle. They were tossed onto the back of the horses, secured with rope as if they were deer carcasses. Her hand shook, squeezing her eyes shut as the tears spilled. She would wake up, wouldn't she? She would be back in her home, eating with her parents. They would be laughing about some terrible joke her father had heard and decided he  _ had  _ to tell them. He would be teaching her how to make bait. She and her mother would be sitting beside each other, teaching Ana how to sew and fix a button.

She opened her eyes when she heard the smash of glass, a burst of flame engulfing the doorway of the home. The wood caught quickly, climbing the frame and swallowing the roof.

Ana watched the life she knew act as kindling.

Completely absorbed in the scene before her, she was only broken from the trance when a voice interrupted it. “Hey! There's someone over there!” One of the men shouted, looking towards her.

“Forget it, we got what we came for!” Someone else shouted back, and Ana could hear herself screaming inside to move. Run. Do something other than just stand there. “And let 'em run and tell the law? No, ain't happening. Y'all go ahead, I'll catch up.” They shouted something else at him as he took off across the land, heading directly for her.

Finally, she was able to move her legs. She turned, slipping some as she took off. She kept the bag close to her chest, not even knowing what was in it. Ana assumed it was important, it had to be if her mother gave it to her. Her boots thudded against the earth, sending shocks through her body. Her muscles were screaming, begging for her to stop. She could hear the footsteps behind her getting closer, the cocking of a gun before a shot was fired. It collided with the tree next to her, splinters filling the air. The girl ducked, stumbling some as another shot was fired. It hit the ground next to her feet, and she turned in the opposite direction.

There was a trap around here, she and her father had set it not even a day before. There had been rumors about a bear in the area, and if it could stop a bear, it could stop him. She turned once more, hearing him shout something at her. It didn't register. Ducking underneath a low branch, she saw the shadow of the trap against the moonlight. Ana took a running jump, leaping over it and skidding, falling to the ground. She tumbled, the bag falling from her hand, turning a panicked glance to her pursuer.

She turned just in time to watch the trap slam shut on his leg.

A painful scream filled the air, falling forward. The gun fell from his hands, landing in the grass. Moonlight glinted off the polished steel. “Motherfucker!” He howled, trying to pry the trap open and only succeeding in splitting the skin on his fingers. “Fuck, fuck,” he continued to growl through gritted teeth. Ana clambered to her feet, taking shaking steps and kicking the gun further away from him. “Who are you?” She demanded, voice shaking.

“Ain't none of your damn business, girl. Get me outta this trap and I'll let you live.” He took another attempt at prying open the trap's maw.

Blood coated his hands, as was his ankle. She could just barely see bone, skin and muscle exposed. “You ain't in a position to be making demands. Who are you?”

“Fuck you, kid.”

Ana took a step forward, raising a foot and kicking the trap. He screamed again. “I'm gonna kill you when I get outta this thing.”

“Why did you do all that? My parents were good people, they didn't do nothin' to anybody.” Her voice broke through the sentence. “I don't ask questions, bad for business. Ain't got a damn clue who your folks was. I just take a head back and get paid.” This time, it wasn't fear in her stomach. It was pure anger.

This man didn't even know her parent's names, or if he did, he didn't care. She swung her foot harder this time, connecting with his rib cage. He coughed, grabbing the area and looking up at her. She kicked again, aiming at his face. He yelped again, grabbing his nose. Between the ankle and the more than likely broken nose, he didn't even feel her take the satchel off of his body. He muttered something about her robbing a man who couldn't fight back. She turned back, scanning the ground for the gun until her eye caught sight of the polished metal.

She knew how to shoot, though she was more accustomed to a rifle. The pistol felt heavy, ornate carvings into the pearl grip. “Just shoot me,” he suddenly spoke.

“Why would I do that?” Ana was dumbfounded by the absolute audacity of this man. He tried to speak again but she cut him off. “Save your breath, you're gonna need it for when those wolves are in your guts.” Ana turned her back to him, ignoring the screams and finding the bag her mother gave her. Pulling the drawstring, she dropped the pistol and other satchel in. Pulling it back up, she wiped her face and started walking.

They lived not too far from town, but she had no idea where she would even go. Her father talked about his tribe, but they lived somewhere East. They were in the West, and she hadn't the faintest idea of where they would be at now. She wasn't even sure if they were still a tribe, or if they'd been forced onto a reservation.

The town was her best choice for right now.

* * *

 

She finished, her eyes never leaving the flickering flames. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his features process the events that she told him. “I’m sorry ‘bout all that.” Was what he finally managed. “Yeah, me too.”  
“How long was you on your own?”   
“Not that long,” she yawned, sticking her legs out and stretching. “‘Bouta week, week and a half. I was stumbling along some road, hadn’t eaten that whole time and my face was covered in mud and dirt. Eyes were so swollen from cryin’ I could barely see. That’s when Marjorie found me, their group came by. Asked where I was goin’ and I said East, said they was goin’ the same way and I could ride with them ‘till I got where I wanted.”

“You ever get there?” He asked.

“No. Other things… happened. Priorities changed some, I guess. Dunno if I’d have found a home with my Pa’s tribe, but I found somethin’ like it with them.” She heard him open his mouth to speak, a small noise coming out before he stopped and then found the way to ask the question. “That where you met your wife?”  
“Yeah, it was. She fell in about a seven months after me, real quiet, but we was close from the start. Got married about four years after we met.” He shifted in his seat next to her.

“Look, I don’t make a habit outta this but,” his voice trailed off, causing her attention to turn to him finally. “But, if you’re still hellbent on goin’ and findin’ these folk, you gotta have someone with you who’s keepin’ you alive.” She stared at him blankly before glancing to her left side, looking at her shoulder and then back to him. “You sure you’re the best one for that job, huh?” He reached out, pushing her good arm. “Don’t be a dick, Abel. You can either take it or leave it.” The idea of having someone else travel with her was appealing, honestly, especially him. He was talented and resourceful, to say the least. “I’ll take it.” She answered. He stood, nodding his head and leaving her to finish her guard duty in peace.

In terms of sobriety, being shot and confined to bed rest did wonders. Though she drank to numb the initial pain, she hadn’t been around the stuff. Something else, she learned, is that she greatly enjoyed caramel candy over bourbon. The red and white striped bag was kept in her jacket pocket, never far from reach. When the feeling of wanting a drink did creep back, she substituted it with caramel instead. A few people had noticed around camp and asked her, and seemed pleased to know that’s what it was for. 

It wasn’t long before she was back on jobs, working alongside the others.

Almost another week had passed, Ana sitting on a crate by the fire while she sharpened the blackened steel of her knife when Sean seemingly popped up from nowhere. “Aye, there he is! Me favorite recoverin’ alcoholic.” It was better than favorite alcoholic, she supposed.

“Whaddya want, Sean?” Came the curt response.  
“What do I want? Abel, you hurt me feelins’, can’t a man check up on his friend without wantin’ something?”  
“They can,  _ you _ ,” she pointed the knife in his direction, jabbing it slightly. “On the other hand, cannot.” He put his hands over his heart, looking utterly defeated. “Ye might as well have stabbed me,”   
“What do you  _ want _ , Sean?” She asked again, much more exasperated sounding.   
“What I want is to go robbin’ with me two favorite grumps,” he pointed to her. “Recoverin’ drunk aaaaaaand,” he pointed towards the other side of camp. “English!” She stared at him, then to Arthur who’s tired expression told her everything she needed. “Do you even have a plan?”

“Always doubtin’ me! I swears, you and English are one in the same!” Sean groaned. “But yes, I do got a plan,  _ sir. _ ” She let out a breath, setting the whetstone down and sliding the knife into its holder. She had little faith in Sean.

He was entertaining, there was no doubt about that. When it came to a job? Less than reliable. “Let’s see if Arthur even takes your pitch.” She spoke, standing and waving Sean to follow her. As they approached, Sean was already speaking. “Now ‘fore you go shootin’ down my ideas, listen here: there’s a horse breeder not too far from here, more money than he knows what to do with! Been sniffin’ around an’ apparently, he sells them studs for a couple hundred bucks a pop, even  _ more _ if he’s got a top buyer.” Arthur looked between the two of them, Ana’s arms crossed and her weight put on her back leg. “So, what I’m sayin’ is, he’s got a lotta money stashed somewhere in that house.”

“Don’t ‘chu think he’d use a bank?” Arthur asked, resting his elbow on his knee.   
“That’s the best part, English!” Sean shook his hands in Arthur’s face. “The man don’t trust banks, says they’re a big scam! Tells pretty much anybody who stands around ‘im for more than five minutes!”  
“So we ain’t goin’ for the horses?” Ana asked.  
“‘Course not, where the hell would we sell offa buncha horses?” Sean replied, and she supposed he had a point. Most of what they did were just plain robberies. “C’mon now, it’ll be quick and simple! Quick roundabout on the property and we’ll be in n’ out before ya know it!”  
“You ain’t gonna drop this ‘till we go, is you?” Arthur questioned.  
“You know I ain’t, Arthur.” The Irishmen replied. Sighing, the man conceded. They all agreed that they would go later in the day, giving them enough time to prepare.

The ride to the farm was uneventful, with Arthur asking more questions than she expected about the job. It was clear he had his doubts about anything Sean brought forward. It was amusing to say the least. “So, what’s this plan you got again?”

“For the hundreth time! I go in posin’ as a buyer, takes me to the stable to get a good ol’ look at all them horses while you and Abel here slip inside and take everythin’ you can get your hands on.” Sean explained, gesturing with his hands.   
“And you really think some hotshot breeder is gonna believe you’re buyin’ lookin’ like that?” Ana quipped. “Hey, travelin’ lookin’ like this means I’m less likely to get robbed,” he looked back, winking at her.

Reaching the farmstead, it was an impressive area. A white fence lined the property, several thoroughbred horses grazing in the front pasture. Lazily, they lifted their heads and watched them ride past. They were certainly calm. “You two, go ‘round the other side and leave your horses.” They listened, heading past the entry gate and to the wooded area that surrounded the East side of the property. The two of them left their horses behind the brush and crept forward. “You think he knows what he’s doin’?” She asked in a low whisper. “Not in the slightest.” Arthur responded.

They watched Sean take an overly confident step up the porch, knocking on the door and waiting. The door opened, a rather large man taking a step out. Sean set to work, talking up a storm about how he had a prize mare and he needed only the best. Ana watched the man’s body language, crossing his arms and his eyes narrowing at him. Their size difference was comical. Regardless, the man seemed to take the bait and whatever Sean was selling. He gestured towards a large, red barn and the two of them stepped off the porch, heading that way. “Can’t believe that worked,” she scoffed. Arthur waved a hand, signaling her to follow. They stayed crouched, heading over to the side of the house and to an open window. “You first,” he jerked his head in the direction. Ana nodded, staying as quiet as she could and climbing in. Her boots made a soft  _ thud  _ against the hardwood floor, quickly looking around before whispering for Arthur to follow. 

They were in a dining room, by the looks of it. A curio cabinet sitting in the far left corner, two other large, wooden pieces of furniture holding plates of various designs and make. “Think he collects this stuff?” She softly made her way over, gently touching the edge of a plate. 

“What’s it matter? Can’t take the plates, they’ll just break, look for somethin’ else.” He began to shuffle through the drawers, lifting the bottoms to see if there was anything hidden underneath. 

In the one she stood at, Ana found several pieces of silverware and stuffed them into her bag. Opening the bottom cabinets, she found the liquor stash. She swallowed. Her hand pushed past the bottles, feeling around in the back and feeling something square and hard. Pulling it forth, there was a small, brown box. Lifting the lid, she found several wads of bills. “Found it,” she spoke just loud enough to get his attention. Stuffing it into her pocket, she returned the box back to it’s spot. “Okay, let’s look somewhere else.” Arthur headed towards the door, reaching a hand out and barely opening the door, but it was enough to give her a glimpse into the other room. 

Men sat around a table, playing cards visible in their hands. There were at least four she could see, the rest of the table cut off by the wall. She lunged forward, grabbing his wrist and pulling it back, the door closing louder than she expected. “What’re y-”

“He didn’t check if the damn house was empty! There’s at least six other men out there, and we need to leave  _ now. _ ” She barely finished the sentence as the other door just adjacent to them opened. They turned, a man holding a newly opened bottle of bourbon staring at the both of them. “Who the hell’re you two?” He asked, more surprised than anything. The two of them looked towards each other. “Derrick, you daft bastard!” Ana put on her worst accent, standing and hitting Arthur’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “I told you this wasn’t the right house!” Shaking her head and setting her hands on her hips. “Sorry, friend, it appears my friend just has the  _ worst _ sense of direction.” The man squinted, clearly not buying it. 

“Yous with that Irish git, ain’t you?” 

A gunshot suddenly rang out on the property.

“Sorry about this,” Arthur spoke, reaching over and grabbing one of the plates and smashing it against the man’s head. There was a sudden shuffle of chairs in the next room. “We gotta go, now!” He shouted, heading back towards the window, leaping out with Ana closely following.  The door swung open behind them, hearing shouting and a thunder of boots. “Get to the front door!” One of them shouted.

They skidded around the corner, catching sight of Sean who was limping. Well, this went about as well as she expected. “Get his horse!” She shouted, rushing over to help their limping friend. The man stood at the entrance of the barn, aiming his pistol again. The shot missed, the woman wrapping Sean’s arm around her neck and making him move faster towards the horse. She helped him up onto the back, Arthur in the saddle. “I’ll catch up!” Slapping the back of the horse, she felt the dirt hit her boot from a shot that got uncomfortably close. She bolted to the right, heading to where they had left the horses.

She got on Bitters as quickly as she could, spurring him on and whistling for her partner’s to follow. “Get back here, you buncha bastards!” The man yelled, a series of inchorenet curses streaming from him along with a list of names. She assumed the men in the house. She kept her head down, spurs jabbing into Bitters’ sides. Reaching the fork in the road, she looked back and saw they were not pursuing. That was good, at least. She caught up with the other two men a ways down the road.

Ana looked around the area, chest heaving as the excitement began to settle in the area. She got off her horse, quickly checking herself over to make sure she had no extra holes. Getting another infection was something she didn’t want. Then her attention turned towards Arthur, who was now on the ground as well. A strange panic gripping her insides. “You didn’t get shot, didya?” She asked, grabbing his arm and looking over him. “Not that I can feel, no.” He answered, though he made no move to make her stop her sudden inspection of him. She checked the front of his shirt, other arm before circling around him and seeing no alarming areas on him. And he seemed to be fine. 

Standing back in front of him, she felt the grip release inside of her. He was fine. She was fine.  _ They _ were fine. Without thinking anymore, her hands suddenly reached out and grabbed ahold of his suspenders, pulling him forward and against her. Ana’s mouth hit against his roughly, the act clearly catching him off guard by how stiff he felt. She could smell the smoke of lingering cigarettes on him, though she tasted none. Her fingers wrapped around the worn, leather suspenders, catching the fabric of his shirt. The stubble scratched against her. Briefly, she felt him relax against her.

Almost as quickly as it happened, something clicked in her head that allowed her brain to catch up with her actions. Suddenly, she broke away, giving his chest a small shove to put a gap between the two of them. Had he started to kiss her back? She wasn’t sure. Arthur met her gaze, eyes slightly wide with his hands level with her hips, his chest rising and falling in heavy movements. “Aye, while I’m so pleased you two are gettin’ on so grand now, need I remind ye both I got  _ shot _ ?” Sean suddenly spoke from the horse. She completely forgot he was there. 

Ana walked over, pulling up the Irishman’s pant leg and looking at the wound. “You barely got hit.” She said flatly. A bloody but clotted area appeared on the back of his calf, though there wasn’t a complete hole in him. “I got shot!” Sean shouted, his voice rising in pitch.

“So did I!” Sean said nothing in response, shifting himself into the saddle and making a rather sour face. 

“Did we get any money?” He asked, finally. She reached into her pocket, pulling out the wad of money. A one hundred faced outwards. “Got two or three bundles of these, should be…” she peeled back the first bill, then looked to Sean. Her nose crinkled, lip pulling back and running her tongue along the front of her teeth. “It’s a buncha fuckin’ ones, Sean.” He stared in disbelief.

“Doesn’t believe in banks my ass,” Arthur rolled his eyes. All in all, there was just barely over three hundred dollars. “Next time, make sure the damn house is empty.” Ana slapped the money into Sean’s hand. A little more force than necessary. She assumed his pride was more hurt than anything, stuffing the bills into his coat pocket before spurring his horse. She became very aware that she was alone with Arthur now. “Well,” she cleared her throat. “I’ll, uh, see you back at camp.” She hurried onto Bitters, leaving before he had the chance to say anything. 

She laid low before heading back to camp, deciding that she would ride around and get more of a feel for the area. There was a lake, and judging from the ripples, was active enough with fish. Mostly, the roads were empty and by the time she returned to camp, night had fallen along with the temperature. She let the reins drop, pulling the bit from her horse’s mouth and letting him wander through the grass. 

Ana reached into her front pocket, pulling out one of the candies and popping it into her mouth. Heading towards the middle of camp, Sean was seated on a crate, his pant leg pulled up and pointing at the bloodied area. He caught sight of Ana, pointing to her. “Ah, there he is! Man o’ the hour, lemme tell you, don’t go on any jobs with just the two of ‘em, daft bastards too busy with other things than to look out for ya, that’s fer sure.” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, knowing exactly what he was referring to. Arthur cough, pounding a fist against his chest. She looked over, seeing a plate of food in his hands. He knew too. “Oh, quit your belly achin’.” Hosea scolded. “Sounds to me it was your fault anyways, who doesn’t double check?” 

“Seriously? Yer takin’ their side?” Sean sounded offended.  
“Ain’t about sides, boy, it’s about who’s right.” The red head threw his arms up, saying how it was unbelievable how  _ he _ was the one who got shot and  _ he _ was the one getting blamed. 

She stuck around the fire for a little longer, eating several more of the candies before deciding that it would be better to sleep off the day. Her mouth still tingled from the kiss, and she couldn’t shake the feeling from her body. Walking past one of the tents, Arthur stepped out. “Abel,” he started. “Mind if we talk?” 

“I absolutely mind, good night.” She pushed past him, noting that he in his expression he hadn’t expected that reaction. 

The next three days were much the same. Arthur seemed intent on finding some way to speak to her, and she did her best to avoid it in absolutely every capacity. She stuck closely to other women of the camp, or Lenny. She knew either way, Arthur wouldn’t speak to her about it in front of other people. It was personal. It probably looked suspicious to others, but she would rather have that than deal with an awkward conversation. 

On the fourth day, it was cause for celebration.  
Shadows played off the canvas tents, the members of the gang cheering around the fire. It’d been a successful job, of course they should celebrate. Ana’s mind stayed on the event that happened a few days ago. They kissed, or well rather, _she_ kissed him. Not that she even meant to, it happened in the heat of the moment. She kept thinking about how it happened. The relief they’d got away, the realization they were going to be fine and then she grabbed him by his suspenders and pulled him in against her.

She hadn’t gotten punched, so.

The crate underneath her creaked as she shifted, leaning over onto her knees and watching the others. They were having fun, a crate of alcohol opened on the table adjacent to the fire. She reached into her pocket. Feeling the plastic scrape against her fingers, she unrolled the candy and popped it into her mouth. Drinking would probably only lead to something worse.

“Abel,” a husky voice spoke. She straightened, seeing Arthur walking towards her.

Fuck.

He repeated her fake name as she looked around for an escape. Perhaps flinging herself down the nearby hill would be good enough. “We need to speak,” he didn’t sound angry. The fire played off his features, one side of his face darkened by shadow. “Do we really right now?”

“Sooners better than later.” She sucked on the candy, feeling it click it against her teeth. He clearly wanted to talk about this. And she had been ignoring him for the better part of four days.

“Abel!” A feminine voice caught both their attention, a clearly intoxicated Mary-Beth stumbling over to them. “Abel, c’mon, you gotta dance with me.” She held a beer bottle in one hand, holding out her other for her to take. Ana looked to Mary-Beth and then back to Arthur. “I feel it would be mighty impolite to refuse a lady’s request.” Arthur’s mouth twisted into a frown. She stood quickly, heels bumping against the crate and taking the woman’s hand before being lead off back to the fire.

The gramophone played an upbeat song, a man’s voice carrying over the instruments that were occasionally interrupted with static. Mary-Beth had sat down her drink, taking Ana’s hands and leading the dance. She was fine with this. Away from Arthur, away from thinking about it. Almost as quickly as they started to the song, it changed. She glanced over, seeing Lenny replacing the cylinder with something else. A soft sound came through the horn, and the dancing slowed.

Mary-Beth moved in closer to her, setting her hands on Ana’s shoulders while she put hers on the woman’s waist. She swallowed thickly, feet moving in small movements around her. “I don’t mind if you maybe wanna move your hands a little lower,” her speech was slightly slurred, looking shyly at her. “You might not, but I do.” They turned, and Ana caught sight of Arthur standing at the edge of the circle. Arms crossed, a look of unhappiness on his features. She felt her stomach do a backflip. 

“You alright, Abel?” The woman’s hand reached up, gently touching her jaw and bringing her attention back on her. “You seem a lil off tonight,” 

“I’m just, uh, thinkin’ about things.” She raised a brow, but said nothing else. Instead, she stepped forward, placing her head against Ana’s chest. Part of her panicked, fearing that she would feel what was beneath the binding. However, she made no immediate movements, instead leaning further into her. Breathing, Ana could smell her perfume and soap. Despite the churning feeling of dread in her stomach, there was a certain relief that came with this moment. Swaying back and forth, a warm body against her, the rest of the world seemed distant. Mary-Beth was a sweet girl, too. 

They continued, Ana glancing over and finding that Arthur had left. She let out a breath of relief. Looking down, she noticed the woman was looking at her. A soft spark in her eye, a flush across her cheeks. She realized that while she shared similarities with Elizabeth, that’s where it stopped. “You know, you’re a good man - a decent man, Abel.” Mary-Beth spoke.  
“Oh believe me, I’m not.”   
“You sound just like Arthur, this camp don’t need another sour grape.” She weakly pushed her shoulder, a soft hiccup causing her body to jump. 

The song stopped, and Ana removed her hands from the woman’s waist. It happened suddenly, Mary-Beth standing on her the tips of her toes and pressing a kiss against her. It was quick, Ana quickly pulling away from her. Mary-Beth looked confused. “I-I’m sorry, I just thought,” her voice trailed off.  
“You’re okay, it’s...okay. Just, I ain’t...ready for anything like that, Mary-Beth.” She gave a small nod of her head, quickly pulling her hands from Ana’s shoulders. 

Despite the awkward moment, Ana helped guide Mary-Beth to bed. Getting her settled in, she left to find her own place to sleep. 

She could say one thing. Life with Dutch’s gang was everything but boring. 

It was another day before Arthur finally caught her alone. “We’re talkin’, now.” It wasn’t a question at this point.   
“Okay.” Was all she said in response. She watched his expression cycle to disbelief. Five days of ignoring him and running off whenever she could, and now she just blankly said ‘Okay’ to him. “About that thing after the job,” he put an extra emphasis on  _ thing _ . She raised her hands, almost defensively as if he were going to lunge at her.

“Listen. It was a heat of the moment thing, had Sean been standin’ there? Same thing woulda happened, probably woulda happened with anyone, just happened to be you. I don’t make a habit outta that, and  _ believe _ me, I’d rather not do that again. So, I feel like it’s best we drop it and pretend like it never happened.” She finished, turning her palms upwards and offering a small shrug. She watched Arthur blink at her, thinking that she saw a flash of something behind his eyes. Was that not the answer he wanted?  
“Okay then, that settles that.” He cleared his throat, turning and leaving. She stood there, watching him walk off while he scratched the back of his head. 

Whatever this feeling was in her stomach? She wanted it to stop. Ana wished she hadn’t stopped drinking, and part of her was tempted to start again right then and there. She pushed that feeling away, finding something else in camp to keep her busy. There was always something to do, and in next several days, Arthur seemed to take what she said and dropped the subject completely. 

“Got somethin’ for ya.” Bill spoke, dropping a letter in her lap. She nodded in thanks, looking at the envelope before flipping it over. Wax seal. There was only one person she knew that used something like that. Anger boiled her blood, debating if she should just throw it into the fire. Instead, she pulled her knife and slit open the top, fishing out the letter on manila colored paper.

_ Abel, _

_ I am deeply sorry about how your last interaction with Joshua went. I had not expected himt to do such a thing, especially when I told him only to speak with you. When he returned with a broken nose and two black eyes, I knew something terrible had happened. He told me, regretfully so, what he had done.  _

_ You know I do not approve of what you’re doing, but I feel I must make amends in some way or another. Perhaps I am foolish for indulging this fantasy of yours, but you are still very dear to me. You and Elizabeth. You were more than just members to me, and I hope you have not forgotten that.  _

_ I digress. The information I have is on one of the bounty hunters you seek. After that mess with Joshua, I’m afraid they became increasingly hard to track. However, one has turned up in a cabin a few miles outside of a small town called Blackfish. I believe it is Benny Corsina. I’ve no clue his role in the group, only that he was with them. And yes, he is using his real name. _

_ Sounding like a broken record is what I am best at, you made that perfectly clear when you left. However, I will tell you once more that I believe this endeavor is foolish. You can still live a normal life, you could come back to the gang. The offer is always open, all you need to do is send me a letter. We’re not as nomadic as we once were. Perhaps you could set down a permanent set of roots. _

 

_ -Marjorie _

Leaving was one of the uglier memories she had the unfortunate luck to remember. Shouting. Swearing. Ana threw a whiskey bottle against the wagon and threatened to set it ablaze. She left in the dead of night, and beyond that, she couldn’t remember much from that time. Regardless, Blackfish wasn’t a terrible ride away. She went to her tent, putting the letter in her trunk and grabbing a change of clothes before heading to Bitters. The woman paused as she opened the saddle bag. Arthur said he would come with her. 

She glanced backwards towards the camp. Did she even want him to come? She still had a strange feeling in her stomach when she looked at him. He was good at helping her stay alive. Sighing, she stuffed the clothes into the saddlebag before searching for him around camp. “Arthur,” she found him on his cot, journal open and scribbling something inside of it. “I got a lead. You still up for comin’?” He was quiet for a moment, nodding and putting the book away. He asked the basic questions: Town, name, was it really that important? She gave all the answers and more as they left the camp, beginning the ride out.

He seemed back to his old self. It was a relief. 

When they reached the town’s edge, they hitched their horses. “I’m gonna go get some supplies,” Arthur spoke. “Sounds good, I’m gonna ask around.” They went their separate ways, starting with the gunsmith for her. He seemed to know little, saying that he had only seen the man a few times and knew nothing more than his name. She tried the sheriff station next. He was more than obliging. “Ol’ Benny, huh? Yeah, he comes around whenever we post a new bounty. Real good at that, him. Brought more lowlife scum to us than half these useless deputies.”  
“You don’t say.” She spoke through gritted teeth.  
“What’re you wantin’ with him?” The man oblivious to her growing disgust.  
“Just an old friend, heard he was up ‘round this way and just wanted to stop by and say hello.” He studied her for a moment.  
“Sure, he told me once about a group of fellers he used to run with.” She swallowed thickly. “Anyway, follow the road outta town West, take a left at the fork in the road ‘till you get to a the bent tree and then go down that path. He’s got a little cabin tucked away.”   
“Thank ya kindly.” She managed, turning and leaving the station. 

She wasn’t even paying attention, running into somebody. “I’m sorry, miss.” She spoke, looking at the items she had dropped. “Here, let me help you.”

“Oh, it’s alright! You didn’t mean nothin’ by it!” The woman responded, and that voice...that voice was familiar. She looked to her, and she felt her body freeze.

Missy. The girl who lived down the road. “I...wait..don’t I know you?” Arthur, of course, walked over with possibly the best, worst timing imaginable. “I’m ‘fraid you must have me confused with someone else, miss. My name is Abel, Abel Lennox.”  
“No, no. I’m almost certain I know you, didn’t you grow up on a farm out in Wyoming? Your name is..” “No, ma’am. Born and raised in Mississippi.” Ana interrupted her. Panic was beginning to set in, her palms sweating. She knew it was her. The way her eyes looked her up and down, studied her face. He looked between the two of them.   
“I don’t think that’s right, your name is-” her voice held careful suspicion before a small voice interrupted her. “Momma! Momma look at what Poppa bought!” With her attention on the small child, Ana grabbed Arthur’s wrist and dragged him towards their horses.    


“Found out where he is, can’t waste anymore time.” 

“Now, wait,” he tried to speak, but she wasn’t paying attention. Clambering on her horse, she hurried past Missy and her family, Arthur having to urge his horse on faster in order to keep up with her. Outside of the town, he spoke again. “What was that all about?”  
“Had me mistaken for someone else, that’s all.”   
“You sure didn’t want her sayin’ your name, Abel.” Her mouth went dry, staying silent. A sudden movement of hooves and Arthur’s horse blocked her path. “Arthur, this ain’t the time for this.” She groaned. “It  _ is _ the time for this, get off your horse. Now.” His voice deepened, barking the last part of it.

Knowing this was only going to escalate, she did as he said. Getting off her horse and walking to the side of the road. “Now, it’s about time you give me the damn truth. And I mean the  _ whole _ truth, not just what you been cherry pickin’ and choosin’ to tell me.”

“What the hell’re you on about?” She crossed her arms.  
“What I’m talkin’ bout is who you are,  _ Abel. _ I don’t even think that’s your real name,” he stook a step forward, voice getting lower and eyes narrowing.   
“In fact, I don’t even think you’re a man at all.”


	6. Viper's Nest

Chapter 6

Ana stared him down, mouth curling into a frown. “You got that wrap around your chest, tellin’ me it’s for some old injury you got. Then, whatchu said in the tent, and blamin’ it on your fever.” Arthur’s voice was low, steady and above all, accusatory. “You got a lot of damn nerve throwin’ insults like that around.”

“Ain’t an insult,” he took a step closer. “If it’s true.” 

They were on the side of a road, nobody else to be seen for miles. She was thankful for that, at least they were having the conversation outside of camp. Though it really wasn’t a conversation. “I’m a man, what the hell I gotta do to prove it?” Crossing her arms and staring at him.

“Take a piss.” 

She immediately regretted asking the question.

“What?” Completely flabbergasted by what he said.

“You heard me. Just turn around, if you’re a man, should be easy enough.” He raised a brow, looking smug. “Right?” For fuck’s sake. 

“I ain’t gotta.” She spoke.

“Fine, we’ll just stay right here ‘till you do.” 

“You really gotta be this stubborn of a bastard?” The irritation rose in her voice.

“Just with you,  _ Abel. _ ” There it was. The way he said the name, sarcastic, sounding out the name so it sounded like “eh-bell.” She stared at him, pressing her lips together. There wasn’t a way around this. Not since he was this determined. She let out a sigh, shoulders slumping.. “Ya caught me.” She deadpanned. He blinked. “My name ain’t Abel. But, now ain’t the time for this, ya hear? Let me take care of this fool and I’ll answer whatever questions you got.” That seemed to be enough to satisfy him for the current time, but this was going to be a  _ lot _ of explaining later. 

They returned to their saddles, following the instructions that the sheriff had given her. Sure enough, a small cabin came into view. Grey smoke plumed from the chimney, indicating that someone was there. “Watch my back, make sure they ain’t makin’ a run for it.” They hopped off their horses, making their way towards the house. The steps creaked slightly under their weight, quieting as she reached the top and stood still for a moment. She took in a breath, calming herself. She wasn’t going to let this one get away. Her head was clear, she could think and see straight. 

Ana leaned against the door, pressing her ear against it and trying to hear anything. It was silent. He couldn’t have already left, could he? A brief jolt of panic came through her. She reached out and turned the door knob, swinging it open and taking a step inside. She smelled food, and suddenly heard the sound of footsteps, more than one pair. She looked back, waving Arthur to hide behind the door frame while she ducked behind the wall. “I’m tellin’ you, we gotta get outta here.” One of the voice spoke.

“And I’m tellin’  _ you _ I ain’t scared of some bitch witha near two decade old grudge.”

“She shot me, Benny. You shoulda seen her eyes, wasn’t nothin’ behind them. I ain’t think even demons look that mean.” 

“So she’s emptier than a cicada shell, them crush easy too.” Benny’s voice was gruff.

She felt the knot in her stomach tighten with each word they spoke, trying to keep breathing calm as the rage swelled in her. She was getting lucky, two of them in the same place, and Roger. He didn’t get that much time after all. “How the hell you think she knows where we is, anyway? You said it’s been a while since you even heard anythin’. She could be dead for all we know.”

“I wanna keep my hide ‘fore I go off thinkin’ she’s dead.” There was another loud scoff. 

“You wanna go? Then go, you yella-bellied coward.” She peered around the corner, briefly catching a glimpse of Roger throwing his hands up before turning and walking back down the hallway, disappearing into a room. Benny turned his back, and she took a step out. Her gun clicked, holding it out. She watched a rigidness overtake his body, his back straightening and slowly turning his head. “Don’t you say nothin’, make any move, and I’ll blow your goddamn brains out all over your floor.” He gave a slight, stiff nod. 

She motioned a hand for them to move to other side of the room, out of the direct line of where Roger would walk back through. On the other side, she grabbed her other pistol, aiming it at the corridor. “I still think you’re a damn fo-” Roger’s speech stopped as he looked from his bag and around the room, stopping on the two of them. The color drained from his face, mouth twitching. “Arthur! Get in here!” Ana yelled out.

Arthur appeared in the room, looking between all of them. “Ain’t you lucky?” He asked.

“Get Roger’s guns, I get the feelin’ he won’t be needin’ them. And his knife, everything he’s got.” The man did as she told him, and Ana did the same for Benny. Letting the guns clatter to the floor, Benny spoke. “So what, you gonna shoot two unarmed men?” He sounded almost disgusted.

“You shot an unarmed woman, but I guess it’s different when you’re on the other side then, huh?” She put one of her guns away, shoving him into the plush chair before doing the same to Roger. “But nah, I ain’t gonna shoot two unarmed men.” Her eyes flickered between the two of them.

Benny looked much more composed. His eyes were set, narrowed on her. Malice. Contempt. Roger’s, however, held fear. He shook like a leaf in the breeze, clearly not wanting to die. “I ain’t gonna shoot neither of you,” she set outstretched her hand that still had the gun, turning it over and looking at the pearl grip. “One of you is gonna shoot the other, the other gets to walk free.” 

“ _ Excuse _ me?” Benny barked out a laugh as Ana set her spare gun down on the table between the two of them. Roger rubbed his knees nervously. “What the hell makes you think I won’t just grab that and shoot you?”

“‘Cause I’m faster than two worn out old bastards past their prime, and I got an extra gun here.” She rolled her shoulder, a faint surge of pain running through it. 

“You ain’t serious, right? Just shoot ‘em and be done with it.” Arthur took a step closer to her. “Ain’t none of this necessary, a-” there was a loud bang in the room, startling the both of them.

Benny’s body slumped down in the chair, a river of blood pouring from a hole in the center of his forehead. A look of surprise was still on his face. Her brows rose, looking to Roger who was still seated, hands shaking as he dropped the gun. She hadn’t expected either of them to actually do it, and she felt a slight churn in her stomach. They acted like friends, or at the least, Roger had acted concerned about Benny’s wellbeing before she got there. “Bought loyalty really ain’t worth much, is it?” She mumbled under her breath. It was a strange feeling of regret in her stomach. “I can go now, right?” Ana tilted her head slightly. “Why would I do that?” 

“B-But you said that I was free if I shot him, I’d get to walk.”

“‘Bout as foolish to believe that as a kid believin’ in fairy tales.” She raised her gun, firing a single shot.

A loud thunk echoed in the room as his body hit the ground, returning both her guns to their holsters. “I’m gonna take a look around, see if he’s got anythin’ valuable that some fence’ll take.”  Arthur grunted in response, turning in the opposite direction. She sighed, heading back to the bedroom and beginning to rifle through the cupboards and drawers. There was a money clip, a bag of odds and end with jewelry, though she found nothing of interest. Looking under the bed, however, she found a lock box. “Oh-ho, jackpot.” She whispered. Pulling out her knife, she slipped it between the small gap and pulled, forcing the lid open. Her hands stilled on the edges, looking down and blinking. “What the…” it was a collection of items, all different. She picked through them.

A pair of earrings. An antique pocket watch with the name  _ Harvey Mills _ engraved on the back. A silver tooth. More items of that until she found a piece of yellowed, folded paper. Opening it, she read names. 

_ Diane Yarrow - Platnium and Pearl earrings _

_ Harvey Mills - Pocket Watch (Swedish? German?) _

_ Timmy “Buck” Shores - Gold Wrist watch (very nice!) _

_ Millicent Tadworth - Glasses _

It was a goddamn trophy list. She wished she killed him herself now. She skimmed the rest of the page, feeling her stomach drop at one of the last few names.

 

_ Florence Rumney - Necklace (tribal, I guess? Looks like ugly rocks) _

  
  


_ “Happy birthday, mama!” Ana chirped, pushing a small box towards her mother’s hands. The woman looked surprised, looking between her child and husband. “Oh, is this a gift for me?” She exaggerated how surprised she sounded. “Of course it is, open it, open it!” She begged, pulling on her skirt. “Calm down there, Faun.” Her father laughed, gently pulling her off her mother. Florence smiled broadly at them, taking a seat at a table chair and slowly pulling the ribbon off the box. Ana groaned loudly, making it clear that the wait was killing her. _

_ “Mamaaaaa,” she whined. Her mother gave her a cheeky smile, pulling the ribbon off completely and opening it up. Her mouth opened slightly, pulling out the item. It was a necklace. Bright and dark blue stones alternated on a chain of silver, a flower made of beads sitting on the bottom of the chain. “It’s gorgeous,” she breathed.  _

_ “Papa and I made it for you! I’ve been collecting those rocks for a  _ while _.” Ana explained, taking a step forward. “So you like it?” _

_ “I love it, Ana.”  _

_ Her mother’s arms suddenly wrapped around her, the girl’s chin bumping against her mother’s neck. She smelled like spice from cooking, mint and thyme. Happily, she hugged her back and felt her father’s arms wrap around them too. _

 

She sat there, holding the necklace, realizing that she had forgotten to breathe. Letting out a loud, shaky breath, the woman got to her feet. Storming from the room, she went to the man’s corpse and threw it from the chair. “What in the hell?” Arthur jumped, the sudden noise startling him. Ana said nothing to explain herself, raising a foot and slamming the heel of her boot against the man’s skull. “What the hell are you doin’!? Mans already dead!” He started to move towards her, though stopped in his tracks when something was hurled at him.

It hit him in the face, falling into his hands. “They took that off her, Arthur. She was already dead, what the hell else they take from her?” Her voice was more akin to a wounded animal, voice changing pitches as it threatened to break. She turned back to the corpse, leaning into another kick. Her mind raced. Stomach turning more sour than week old milk. She couldn’t think about that. She wouldn’t. “Fuck,” she muttered, pushing past Arthur and into the kitchen.

Her movements were fast, uncoordinated as she started to rip through the cabinets. She refused to let that thought stay in her head any longer, and there had to be something that would block it out. “Stop it.  _ Stop it. _ ” Arthur’s arms suddenly came around her, pulling her arms in against her chest. Her body thrashed against him, struggling to pull away but he was strong. She kicked her legs out, but it was useless, his grip on her was ironclad. “Just, try and calm down, you hear me? You’re just gonna end up hurtin’ yourself, carryin’ on like that.” His voice sounded strained with each jerking movement she gave until eventually her muscles began to tire. 

Ana’s breathing slowed, taking in deeper breaths and turning her head slightly to face him. They were incredibly close. Her eyes focused on his. They were so  _ blue _ , how had she not noticed before? This close, she could see the green that wove itself through his iris, and she swore she could small flecks of yellow. His grip around her relaxed, leaning back and putting more space between the two of them.

Her face felt hot. She felt embarrassed. Stupid. Every emotion between those two she swore she was feeling in those few moments. “I’ll uh, I’ll wait outside.” He didn’t know how to comfort her. Standing, he caught the profile of her face. 

Jaw set, eyes focused forward. The bob of her throat as she swallowed back rage and pain. There was more hurt than anger in her eyes, the subtle beginnings of tears starting to form. As soon as he passed the threshold of the front door, he heard a fist go through thin wood. 

He pretended not to.

It was several minutes later when she finally trudged down the steps, eyes bleary and bloodshot. Arthur tossed the cigarette down into the dirt, rubbing the butt into the ground with the heel of his boot. He noticed something tucked under her arm, making a vague gesture to it. “Dunno if they got burials,” she spoke flatly. “But at least their things can.” Of all the things he expected, that wasn’t something. 

“I’m sure you can find a nice spot for ‘em.” She gave a small shrug of her shoulders, stuffing the box into a saddle bag as best she could.

Climbing into the saddle, he noticed in a brief moment how she leaned her head against Bitters neck, offering several small pats against his massive neck before climbing up herself. He wasn’t sure what to tell her, or if he should tell her anything. He wasn’t good with these sorts of things, especially comfort. Though while he thought about how he could possibly approach this situation with his usual hamfistedness, she took the lead and he followed behind.

The insects made noises, birds chirped lightly while crows screamed every now and again. It was silent. They rode for a while before she nodded off to the right, a small clearing. “Let’s rest here for a minute, I need a break.” There was a broken tree, snapped at the base. A rock sat opposite it.  They each took a seat in the area respectively. “How’d you you know that necklace was your momma’s?” He watched her eyes roll, a small scoff escaping from her. “Had her name written down to it on a piece of paper. That box of trophies? It was in there. B’sides, I made it with my Pa.” She sucked in a breath of air, her eyes focusing on him with an intensity that was almost uncomfortable. “What other damn questions you got?” Judging by the tone in her voice, she didn’t really want to answer. But she did say he could ask anything. 

“What’s your actual name?”

“Anastasia Maribel Bradly. Go by Ana, though.” She reached into her pocket, grabbing one of the caramel candies and popping it into her mouth. “What’s with,” he waved a hand up and down at her. “The get up?”

“You ain’t that stupid to know what happens to women out on the road, ‘specially to ones that travel alone. Ain’t unheard of that happenin’ to men, but..chances are a little less.” She watched him connect the dots, the sudden click appearing in his eyes. He coughed. 

“Fair enough, but why ain’t you tell anybody for that long?” He asked.

“Didn’t seem important at the time, Abel worked just fine. ‘Sides, you think I wanna sit and wash y’alls laundry with the other girls all day?” She rolled her eyes while he scoffed.

“Ten months is an awful long time to lie to people,” she abruptly cut him off.

“First off, I ain’t lie about nothin’,” her voice grew heated. “Y’all assumed I was a man, I just didn’t correct that. Everything else you seen? That’s been me, just a different named attached.”

“That’s still lyin’, Ab- Ana.”

“Omission o’ truth, that’s what I call it.”

“That’s still lying,” he sighed. 

She didn’t seem to intent on arguing with him. “What ‘bout that other gang you ran with, they know about any of this?” She blinked, taking a moment to register what he meant.

“They knew me as Ana. I wasn’t playin’ dress up ‘till I went on my own. Marjorie knew cause I sent her a letter in case she was tryin’ to contact me to use Abel and call me her nephew. Guess she blabbed to Joshua.” He nodded slightly.

“And ‘fore you ask, everything I told you ‘bout them is true. Findin’ me a week after everythin’, offerin’ to help me. That’s all real.” She sighed.

“What ‘bout your parents? You ain’t said much about them.” He watched her jaw tense, eyes cast to the side while her finger nervously picked at the bark of the tree she sat on.

“Ma was a society lady, real proper. Her Pa was a plantation man, wasn’t kind to anyone, least of all his slaves. Guess he wanted some kind of good points or somethin’ when he hired my Pa’s family to help work the fields. My Pa was a Native, I..I can’t remember the name of the tribe he said he was from, but he met my Ma when he was fifteen and she was sixteen. Ain’t nothin’ come of it ‘till they were eighteen.” She paused, reaching into the satchel that hung around her ankles. She pulled out a weathered looking journal, held together with twine. “She wrote about all of it, guess it’s sorta the..” she held the book between her knees, lightly swatting her palm with it. “Sorta the last thing I got of ‘em, I guess.” Ana’s gaze still wouldn’t meet his, glancing up once every few moments to see if he was still looking at her.

“Might be stupid to hold onto somethin’ like that but, I dunno,” she put the book away into her bag, crossing her arms and leaning over herself. The strain in her voice, the posture, she was uncomfortable talking about this. “Ain’t stupid, least I don’t think so.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around as if someone were going to walk in on their conversation. “You seen that flower I keep on my table?” That piqued her interest, actually turning her face to look at him.  “Well, my Ma liked that flower. I don’t remember too much ‘bout her, she died when I was pretty young but, uh, I remember that. Whenever we head out that way, I try to grab one and keep it there. Ain’t much, but..it’s somethin’ we get to have of them.” There was a slight relaxation in her posture that he could tell, and strangely enough, he felt..lighter, having told her that. He hadn’t told anyone, other than Hosea. 

“What about your wife, El-” She abruptly stood, cutting him off. 

“No more question. I think you got enough outta me for now.” Whatever moment of connection or relaxation they had was gone, replaced with the tense look in eye. He regretted opening his mouth. She looked almost… at ease, listening to him talk about something so small.  _ Goddamn idiot, _ he thought to himself. He stood, following suite. Part of him felt stupid, sharing something like that. He wasn’t any good at this sort of thing, and while it did seem like it helped… he didn’t know. 

He had a strange feeling in his stomach, one he’d had before but..

No.

He watched her rub the place on her arm where she’d been shot, assuming there had to be pain. She hadn’t told him the extent of the injury, but he noticed that she wasn’t using both arms to hand up sacks of feed to Lenny anymore. With every time he asked if she was okay, or if she’d eaten, she shrugged it off and told him to stop acting like a mother hen. Though in truth, he’d been afraid that bout of sickness was going to be the end of her. 

As they made their way back to camp, the more he thought about everything she told him. It made sense, really. Not that it made it any better.  “You gonna tell everybody?” The question caught him off guard. “Huh?”   
“You gonna tell everybody that I’m actually a woman?” Her back was to him.

“Nawh. Ain’t my business.” There was a small grunt in response. He assumed that was her way of saying she appreciated it. 

The rest of the trip was silent, reaching camp just as the sun began to dip below the tree line. By her posture, he could tell she was sullen. It really affected her, dealing with the two of those. Almost as soon as they hitched the horses, Ana was already gone inside of her tent. Arthur made his way to his cot, sitting down and reaching inside his pocket. The necklace clasp had broken whenever she had thrown it. The ends bumping uselessly together when he tried to see if there was anyway they could fit together. He sighed, taking a glance over to the tent on the far side of camp. 

Ana found it increasingly hard in the coming days to not slip back into old habits. She’d already slipped once, grabbing a bottle of bourbon off Pearson’s wagon and choking back the contents only to vomit them back onto the tree she was standing next to. She figured even her body knew that wasn’t something it wanted to go back to. 

“Ah, there you are Mr. Lennox,” Pearson waved her down, giving a slight jog to head towards her. “I need you and Mr. Morgan to head into town to pick up a few things. Dutch says we’ll be leaving this spot in a few days, wanna make sure we’re prepared for the ride.” 

“Gotcha’.”  

She found him in a chair next to his table, hunched over;  his hands busy with something. She glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the flower in the small glass bottle. It was something small, but it held a lot meaning. “Hey, Arthur.” He jumped at the sound of her, slamming his knee into the table. “Woah, woah, didn’t mean to scare you. Pearson needs us to go into town, pick up a couple things.” She waved the list he’d given her in the air.

He slipped something in his pants pocket as he stood, raising a brow to him. She figured it was his wallet. Arthur grabbed his hat, using it to gesture to the wagon. In a few moments, they were off and heading into town. “You seem in a better mood,” his words were even in tone.

“I do?”

“Yeah, you was pretty sullen when we got back. It’s just uh, heard you laughin’ with Lenny the other night so I thought you was feelin’ better.”

“I am. I mean, I wasn’t. Drank half a bottle of bourbon and puked on a tree but… guess I just had some time to process it, I guess.” She leaned back into the seat, glancing to the right of them and seeing several rabbits dart through the grass. “Just uh, thanks for what you did.”

“What?” He questioned.

“Makin’ me calm down after,” she paused, flexing her fingers into a fist before sighing heavily. “All that. I’m sure I would’ve put my fist through a window or made a bigger mess than I did.” 

“Don’t mention it,” he coughed, sounding almost sheepish. 

They pulled into the town, parking near the general store and hopping off. “You mind gettin’ what’s on the list? I got some other business to attend to.” 

“Sure, I’ll meet ya back here.” She turned, pushing her way into the general store. 

He hadn’t started treating her any differently after he found out she was a woman. There was no change in his tone or the way the acted around her, no shift to try and protect her. It was something she appreciated. She was still mulling it over on how she would tell the rest of the group. She looked at the list, telling the man behind the counter what they needed. He was more than accommodating, especially with the amount she was buying. While he called his store attendants, she glanced around and noticed the clothing on the rack. 

Well, it would be one way. 

“Go ahead and load that up, I’ll just be a little while longer.” 

In the dressing room, she found it a much different experience. She hadn’t gotten anything new in years, and the shirts she had now showed that. Stains, rips, frays and countless time she had resewn the buttons back. She wasn’t used to looking like  _ this. _

The trousers weren’t as loose, sitting up higher on her waist and hugging slightly tighter. And the shirt...she wasn’t used to seeing her body like this. Sure, she took the binding off when she slept but seeing her chest unbound and in a shirt that was fit for a more womanly figure was off putting. The red and green plaid pattern button up worked with the dark denim, slipping the pant legs into her boots. She pawed at her hair for a moment, trying to sweep it to one side.  She looked different, that was for sure. 

She stuffed the binding into her satchel, heading out and paying for the clothes separately. Stepping out of the store, she headed towards the wagon as the young men loaded up the wagon. “Thank you again,” one of the boys turned to her, his voice cracking. “Si-ma’am?” Ana could feel her cheeks heat up, feeling more embarrassed that she was wearing these clothes instead of her usual ones. It was such a stupid thing to be embarrassed about too.

“You get everything?” Arthur asked, approaching the wagon. She folded her arms over her chest, holding them against her chest. “Think so, everything Pearson wrote down.” He paused when he looked up, noticing the new clothing. “The shirt looks, uh, nice.” 

She climbed onto the wagon without responding.

He climbed up beside her, slapping the reins and jolting some as the horses pulled forward. “Where’d you go sneakin’ off to?” Ana asked. 

“Just went to check on somethin’.” It seemed like that was all he would say on the subject. The closer they got to the camp, the more nervous Ana began to feel. It would be certainly be a lot of explaining. To everyone. Regardless, she took in a breath and straightened her back. 

Pulling into camp, she got off the wagon and grabbed a sack of feed off the back of the wagon. Dutch was, of course, the first to catch sight of her. With the feed thrown over a shoulder and her other arm by her side, she couldn’t exactly cover herself. “Abel?” He questioned, looking at her from head to toe. “Yeah, so...funny thing is..” Before she could finish, Hosea interrupted.

“What, you’re telling me you didn’t know, Dutch?” Walking up, he clapped Dutch’s shoulder. Ana looked befuddled. “You knew?”

“‘Course I knew. Let me tell you this,” Hosea took a step forward, reaching out and touching the shoulder that didn’t have the feed on it. “You ride your horse well for a woman. Now, if you were a man? You wouldn’t have any balls left.” Of course. The observant con-artist would catch something so small. 

“Go put that feed down, I believe you’ve got a story to tell us.” He didn’t sound angry, much to her surprise. Gathering the others from the camp, they sat around the fire. Ana gave them a highly condensed version, leaving out the entirety of her childhood and instead, focusing on why she dressed and acted like a man. “I been with y’all long enough and you’re good people...didn’t feel right to keep the charade up.” 

“Well, I for one ain’t goin’ out riding with Morgan anymore,” Bill jerked a thumb in Arthur’s direction. “You go out a man, come back a woman.” A snort and chuckle came from a few of the members, though it was Lenny who looked the most mortified.

“You’re a lady? Oh god, the way I been talkin’ to you this last year? Oh, oh no,”

“Kid, I may be a lot of things, but I’ll let you know right now that I ain’t a  _ lady _ .” Lenny pressed his lips together, and she was unsure if he was trying to keep himself from laughing or saying something else.  “I guess you were right when you told me the world couldn’t survive if more men were like you,” Tilly joked, a smirk on her face and hands on her hips. Ana gave a slight sheepish grin, shrugging her shoulders lightly.

Once the initial shock had passed, Dutch waved her over to his tent. She felt the dread seep into her stomach, slithering through her body like a snake and weighing her legs down. “So, Anastasia is your actual name?” 

“Yessir, but call me Ana.”  He folded his hands in his lap, picking up his feet and propping them up on the table in front of him. “Now, I know the reason you told us for this whole charade was for protection, but you got a bounty on your head, girl?”

“I-what?”

“I know you used to run with a different gang, you must have some kind of price on your head. I just need to know,” he picked up his feet, squaring them off as he set them, leaning forward and looking her straight in the eye. “Are you a danger to my people?” 

“Dutch, I been here long enough you know that ain’t the case. As for the bounty, Abel had nothin’ to do with it.” He eyed her for a moment before giving a slight nod.

“I ain’t gonna question your loyalty, or your abilities. If you’ve got no more surprises for us?” His voice rose in pitch towards the end of the question. She gave a small laugh. “Not sure I could manage to hide much more from you.” She gestured towards the front of the tent, silently asking if she could leave. He nodded, picking up a book from the end table beside him and turning his attention towards that. 

The next morning, the camp was packed into the back of the wagons and the ride towards their next destination began. “Dutch say where we’re goin’?” Ana rode beside the wagon, asking her question to Hosea who sat in the driver’s seat. “Place called Se  Détendre, apparently it’s quite the city.”

“The city is named ‘Relax’?” 

“You speak French?” Hosea asked with mild surprise, taking a quick glance down to her.

“Wouldn’t say I speak it, I just know a couple words here and there.” Marjorie had taught her several phrases, though in truth, she only remembered the less than appropriate ones. 

The spot they picked was situated near a river, the ground was flat and even. It was a fine enough place. Wagons unpacked, Ana once more situated her tent on the edge of the camp. Once the rest of the camp has been settled, Hosea was the one who suggested a quick look around the town. “Supposed to be divided into three parts, or somethin’ like that. Riverfront district is where we’ll find the unfortunates, there’s the middle class and then upper crust. Let’s try to avoid that area for now, be a little too obvious I think.” She nodded in response, mounting their horses and heading into the city.

The first several trips seemed uneventful. They poked around several parts of the city, trying to pick up anything useful. They spoke to bar patrons, though one thing Ana had realized was that someone named Quan came up very frequently. She tried to learn more, though people seemed sheepish on the topic. Whatever lead they thought they had would be snuffed out by the end of the next day, and it was becoming increasingly frustrating. 

It wasn’t until two weeks later, Hosea came back to camp with a letter in hand. A delicate scrawl on the outside envelope, a slight perfumed smell coming from it. “What’s that?” She asked, curiosity piqued. “Some urchin came up and handed me it, said it was important. Apparently, one of us caught the attention of this Quan fellow,” he pulled the paper from the envelope. “Got the address, but it seems to just be a meeting. Arthur, Ana, if you’d be so kind as to come with me?”

“‘Fraid this fellow is gonna talk you to death?” Arthur asked.

“Little muscle never hurt anybody,” Hosea winked.  It took a few moments for them to get ready, but they headed into the city and followed the instructions on the letter. It was further in the city, the place that Hosea had called ‘Upper Crust’. They were met with quite the sight.

The outside of the mansion was, in a word, immaculate. Bright, white stone columns supported the upstairs patio. The light paneling on the house caught the light and gave it an almost glow. The shrubbery and trees in the yard had been trimmed with expert care, and she took note of flowers that she had never seen before thriving in the flower beds under the windows. They stood just on the other side of a large gate, a brick fence extending higher on either side and wrapping around the property.

“Think this guy is afraid of getting robbed?” Hosea asked.

“Shame he’s inviting us then,” Arthur replied, pointing towards a man making his way down the cobblestone walkway. He wore a freshly pressed suit, the coattails just above the ground. “May I help you three?” There was a trace of an accent somewhere in his voice.

“Ah yes, we’re here to see a Mr. Quan. A little urchin boy gave us this,” Hosea reached into his pocket, pulling forth the stamped intricately decorated envelope. The wax seal on the back had been broken, producing the perfumed piece of manilla paper before passing it through the bars.

He snorted in derision, looking them up and down. “My lady has no accounting for taste these days. Pity. Come this way,” he opened a door within the gate and ushered them in. 

“Did he just call us tasteless?” Ana whispered towards Arthur, earning a glance from Hosea. She shrugged her shoulders uselessly. “This is an impressive place, if I may say.”

“You may.” The response was curt. He obviously had better things to do than entertain three vagabonds that came off the street.   They took the steps quickly, the servant opening the door and stepping in first. Ana looked around the entrance, slightly astounded by how it looked.

Shiny, black and white tile checkered the entrance. Carved, hardwood walls met a powder blue wall appear half way up the wall, intricate sconces throwing bright, white light through the room. A spiral staircase stood in the corner of the room, a doorway on every wall leading into a different area of the house. How big was this place?

“Your boots, sirs and ma’am. Please remove them.”

What?” Arthur was the one to ask. The servant sighed, clearly irritated at having to repeat himself.

“Remove your boots, sir. The lady of the house does not like dirt.” They bent, beginning to remove their boots when a voice drifted down from above them. “Ah, I was wondering when you would drop by.” Followed by the soft clank of jewelry. 

Leaning over the railing was a small woman. Dark hair swept up into a bunch, a few stray pieces framing her face. Blush tinted her cheeks, a swath of red on her lips that contrasted her pale skin and dark eyes. “I am so pleased,” her voice was high, sing-songy almost. She moved, heading towards the stairs and speaking again. “Gustav, please. Take our guest’s boots and clean them,” reaching the bottom of the stairs, she closed the gap. Upon further inspection, she scrunched her nose. “They desperately need them. Please make sure they come back looking new.” He appeared like he wanted to decline, though the woman raised a hand to silence him. 

Reluctantly, he took the boots. Dirt smudging onto his white gloves. His face soured, giving a nod and leaving the room. Arthur looked at the woman before him. She barely came to his chest. Her eyes were small, tilted slightly upward and hooded. She wore a champagne colored dress, silk shifting in the light of the room. The neckline plunged, revealing the tops of her breasts. Birds and flowers were embroidered on the lower half, and he noticed the front of the dress was higher than the back, showing her legs. Like everything else they had seen so far, it looked expensive.

“Please, follow me.” She waved a hand for him to follow, leading him to the left. 

he room smelled faintly of smoke, two plush sofas facing each other. A fire crackled on the far side of the room, bookcases lining the walls and stuffed to the brim with various colors and sizes of books. She moved with a lightness he hadn’t seen in quite some time, stepping around the back of the couch and lifting a bottle of liquor. “Drink?” She asked. Ana shook her head, though Arthur and Hosea nodded. She poured two glasses, dropping a single cube of ice into them. She moved with fluid grace, handing them off before sinking into the couch opposite them.“ You’ve been quite busy in the city,” she began. She put one leg over the other, languidly leaning back. “Oh ma’am, we didn’t mean to cause anything like that. We’re just a couple of transient folks, passing through and lookin’ for work.” Something didn’t feel right.

She gave a short laugh, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “Well, that is not quite right. I am the one who gives the work around here, and  _ nothing  _ happens here without me knowing.” She tapped a finger against her knee.

“That right?” Hosea replied, a playful tone.

“It is. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t know what happened in my own city?” 

“ _ Your _ city?” He repeated. Hosea’s brow furrowed while Ana wished she had asked for a drink at this point. “Of course, I’m the one who sent the boy to fetch you. Oh, forgive me, I have been terribly rude.” She waved a hand in a worrisome fashion. “My name is Ming-Ji Quan, and I own this city.” A few of them had heard people talk about someone named Quan in the streets. She pursed her lips before smiling. “I see from your look you had no idea, do not fret. Judging from your looks, you are new around here. And I  _ certainly  _ have not heard of some muck covered cowboy running through my streets before a week ago. And before you ask, no, there is no Mr. Quan.” With how sweet her voice was, it was hard to hear the insult. 

Ana could see from the corner of her eye the way Hosea’s grip tightened around his drink. “I’m Hosea Matthews, and these are my associates, Arthur Morgan and Anastasia Bradly.”

“Oh, you have some manners! Delightful.” She reached out onto the table in front of them, picking up a skinny cigarette and lighting it with a match. Shaking it out, she inhaled and blew a ring of smoke. “This meeting is a courtesy, more than anything.”

“A courtesy, you say?” Hosea set the drink down. 

“Of course, I do not feel it would be fair for you to be completely blindsided.” She took in another inhale, narrowing her eyes. They flickered from each one of them. “I am a businesswoman. This city is mine, and mine alone. I have little mice through the city, and they tell me everything.” She tapped the ash into a tray on the table. “I deal in information, a few illegal things here and there. I must also say, I do not like new people believing they can step in and take what I’ve earned.”

“Oh, we have no intention of that, Miss Quan.” 

_ Information? _ Ana thought to speak, but kept her mouth shut.  The woman before them sat like a viper ready to strike, a venomous smile crossing her face. She may have been small, but there was an intimidating air about her. “My main point is, do not attempt to start something in this city, especially under my nose.” She took a long inhale, blowing several more rings out. “It will not end well for any one of you,”

“Is that a threat?” Arthur spoke, noticing that her attention was still focused on Hosea.

“Oh no, my dear. It is a promise. Though,” she searched his face, eyes trailing down. “You look like you could last a few rounds with me.” 

Ana coughed abruptly.

“Well, Miss Quan. This meeting has been lovely, we thank you for the drinks. And while we don’t intend to start anything under your nose, perhaps we could help each other at some point? My boy Arthur here is as strong as they come, I’m sure he could be some use.” She paused for a moment, considering before a loud coughing could be heard from somewhere in the lower floor of the house.

“We will see. I will be in touch once more, but I am afraid I must ask you to take your leave.” She stood, offering a small bow and turning on her heel. The servant entered the room once more, followed by another who held a pair of boots. “I assume your meeting is over, then?” The three of them exchanged a look, nodding. The servant held the boots out, each of them taking and shuffling them back on. They did look better. It was almost a shame they would get dirty within a few days. Still, she couldn’t help but think that Ming said she dealt in information. Surely that meant she could get information from anywhere. 

She would have to look into this further.


	7. A Blind Bet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my name is Marie and I don't know what the fuck consistent updating is. Sorry to the three people who read this!!! ilysm and i hope u don't think it's trash ok bye

Ana stood outside the tall gates of the mansion. Her fingers worriedly ran across the brim of her hat in her hands, squeezing the leather every now and again. She’d taken more care in dressing today, figuring that showing up last time in run down clothing didn’t leave the best impression. A simple white and grey striped button down and dark jeans. The boots were the same tired ones, however. She’d attempted to pomade her hair, trying to keep the unruly cowlick down. She wasn’t sure how successful it had been.

She had checked several times to make sure her face was clean as well. The familiar face of Gustav appeared, polished shoes clicking on the cobblestone before stopping just beyond the other side. “May I help you?” 

“Uh, yeah. I got an appointment is Miss Quan? I was here a couple days ago with a Mr. Matthews,” He squinted at her, looking up and down. 

“Well, I am glad that you decided to put a little more effort in your appearance today Miss…?”   
“Bradly.” 

“Miss Bradly,” he made an obscenely loud sniff in the air. “It’s pleasant to see you bathed, as well.”

“To be fair, I was with two other fellers.” He scoffed in response. 

She thought about breaking his knees.

Instead, he opened the gate and ushered her inside. “Well, don’t dwaddle. She is not a patient woman.”

“Accordin’ to you, she ain’t a lot of things.” She wouldn’t deny that Ming made her nervous, thought she wasn’t sure if was purely because she was terrified of her, or because she found her attractive in some way. Gustav didn’t answer, instead hurrying his pace towards the door and up the steps. 

Once inside the foyer, he turned and stopped her. “Ah-ah, no shoes.” She rolled her eyes, huffing before bending and pulling the boots off. He outstretched a hand to take them, though she dropped them beside her while staring him down. “Oops.”

“Please,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “If you’ll see yourself to the sitting room, Miss Quan will be with you shortly.” He stiffly bent, picking the boots with just two fingers. She could tell he was trying his hardest to touch as little of the surface as he could. “And do not steal anything.”

“I’ll be a perfect lady,” Ana snapped back. 

She padded her way into the sitting room, the fire still burning brightly  against the other wall. She took a moment to look at the bookshelves. They were crammed full. She noticed several medical texts mixed among fantasy stories, novels and travel journals. 

Ming-Ji was apparently a well read woman. “Interested in reading?” The familiar chime-like voice entered the room. She turned, her breath almost catching in her throat. Ming-Ji wasn’t one for subtle outfits, that was for sure. The dress was still more in the fashion of a nightgown. Light yellow and decorated with small flowers, the neckline still cutting lower than it should have. Her neck was covered by a thick necklace studded in sparkling gems, a deep plum color on her lips and a line black as coal atop her slanted eyes. The woman leaned against the door frame, heavy looking rings adorning her fingers in a similar fashion to the ones on her neck. 

“Yes ma’am, ever since I was a girl.”

“Well, perhaps you can borrow one of them some time,” she nodded, a smile crossing her lips to reveal slightly crooked teeth. She stepped forward, extending a hand and gesturing to the couch. Ana stumbled slightly, taking a seat. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, no ma’am. I don’t dr-”

“I have other things, darling. Tea, water, even milk if that’s something you prefer.” She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “Uh, tea.”

“Herbal, black, green?” She raised a brow.

“Dealer’s choice?” Ana asked. Ming-Ji laughed lightly response, calling out in a language that Ana had never heard before. Another servant appeared, they spoke briefly in the same language before they disappeared. “If it ain’t rude Miss Quan-”   
“Please, call me Ming-Ji.”

“Miss Ming-Ji,” it was apparent in her face that she hadn’t intended for her to keep saying ‘Miss’. “What language was that?”   
“Korean. My mother taught me. But, we are not here to talk about my childhood.” She relaxed back into the couch, the sleeve of her dress falling down her shoulder slightly. She made no move to fix it.

“You wanted to see me?” Ming-Ji questioned.   
“You said you deal in information, and I need some.”

“Oh, my darling,” a sharp bite of laughter escaped her. “What makes you think you can afford my information?” 

“Everybody’s got a price, ain’t always gotta be money.” Ana knew she had to be careful. Ming-Ji was like a viper, beautiful but one bite would be more than enough to kill her. Though the comment caused her brow to raise. The woman across her crossed her legs, leaning forward. Her elbow rested on her knee, placing her chin on her knuckles. “And what  _ exactly _ might you be offering, dear?”

“You said you do a lotta things. Figure you need something done that you can’t send any of your own people on, you could send me. Outside help, that’s all.” She pursed her lips, squinting her eyes and moving her mouth from side to side. “I could see how that would be beneficial to us. You do not look like the people I usually hire and you seem to be resourceful.” The servant entered the room pushing a silver trolley. A tea set covered in a delicate floral pattern and two cups sat there. The servant placed the tray on the table, giving a small nod to the both of them before disappearing. Ming-Ji leaned forward, picking up the tea pot and pouring it into the two cups. Ana picked up the small dish and cup, taking a small sip. 

It was floral. 

“No sugar?” She tsked in a playful tone. “What a pity,” Ming-Ji dropped in several cubes of sugar into her cup, stirring with one of the small spoons. She reclined back and took a sip. “And you would be willing to do  _ whatever _ I asked of you?” Ana swallowed a mouthful of hot tea. 

“If you can get the information I need.” Ming-Ji’s nails rapt against the ceramic of the cup. 

“What exactly would you be asking me to find, Ana?” 

“I’m lookin’ for locations of a couple of men. Figure the way you talk, you could figure out what I need.” A devilish smirk flashed across the woman’s face. “I certainly could. What are the names?” 

“Larry Shifter and Martin Glasgow.”

“Well, you know I will not get this information over night.” She fanned a hand out. “It will take me at least a few days, and I have nothing urgent that requires attention. But when the need arises, I will send someone to find you.”

“Find me? That isn’t-”

“Oh please, I know better than to send one of my couriers to your dusty, hovel of a camp.” Ana blinked. Ming shrugged once more. “I have mice, I have told you this. But do not worry, they were children that followed you. They pose no more threat than a duck.” She took a sip of her tea. “Unless they have their shank, in which case, they are considerably more dangerous.” She looked at Ana expectantly.

“Oh. You’re tellin’ a joke?”

“I am afraid I am not the best comedian in the city.” She offered a small sigh, taking another drink before setting the cup down with a small clink.

“Regardless, I believe I must ask you to take your leave.” She stood, smoothing the front of her dress. “Allow me to walk you to the door.” Ana set the cup down, following the woman. It was strange to be around someone so much shorter that wasn’t little Jack. She paused at the door, noting her boots were sitting up straight and clean. She felt almost bad for tossing them down earlier. Ming-Ji reached out, gently touching Ana’s arm. “If you ever feel the need to stop in for a social call, please know that it is no trouble.” The lingering touch on her arm allowed a small spark of anxiety to run through her arm. Ana cleared her throat, coughing slightly. “Well, if I can ever get away, I’ll try to take you up on that offer, Miss Q- Ming-Ji.” 

“I look forward to it, perhaps we may discuss our favorite novels. Please, stop by again tomorrow.” She gave a small nod, allowing Ana to put on her boots without interruption. 

As she opened the door, Ming-Ji offered another good-bye and allowed Ana to exit on her own. She did not shut the door until Ana was past the far gate. Bitters blustered loudly as she approached him. “Oh, quiet.” He responded by snapping towards her hand as she reached to pet his neck. “Hey, hey! I’m the one that gets to be an asshole, not  _ you. _ ” She reached further back, hand slipping into the saddle bag and pulling out a sugar cube, laying her fingers out flat and allowing him to quickly eat it out of her palm. “Yeah, lot less cranky when you get somethin’ you want.” She gently rubbed his neck before mounting the saddle. “Jackass.” She mumbled.

The meeting left her nervous and confused. She hadn’t told anyone she went to go speak to her, and to her knowledge, Hosea had made some progress speaking to her. She allowed him to move some things around the city, but anything large there was a quick halt to. She was also confused because despite the fact she found Ming-Ji beautiful, there was a strange sensation of guilt. That she  _ shouldn’t _ find her attractive. 

Ana had considered the possibility of being with anybody else other than Elizabeth until several months ago. She had a sudden realization and quickly pushed that idea far, far away from her. That wasn’t happening. 

Camp was quiet when she returned, hearing the soft sound of Jack’s laughter as Abigail played with him. It gave her enough time to get Bitters to the grazing area, heading to the middle to see if Pearson had any stew ready. “Ana,” Arthur headed towards her just as she picked up one of the empty plates. “I got somethin’ for ya.”

“Well, it ain’t even my birthday. What’d ya steal for me?” He gave her a sour look, reaching into his pocket. 

He pulled out her mother’s necklace.

Her jaw went slack. She had forgotten that. Between her anger and general disgust, she hadn’t even thought about it again. “After you hucked it, and you know it hittin’ me in the face, the clasp broke. Easy fix,”

“Is that where you slipped off when I went to get supplies?”

“Might’ve been.” He passed the necklace into her open hands. She ran her hands along the beads, and for a moment, she felt like she was a child,  threading them once again. “It seemed real important to ya.” “Arthur, this is...I..” She curled her fingers around it, flexing and feeling the texture and weight shift in her palm. Nobody had done anything this kind for her in a long time. “I ain’t know what to say.”

“Ya ain’t gotta say anything,” he sniffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Makes the whole thing easier. Just, wanted you to have it is all.” He gave a small nod and left.

Ana made her way to the tent, sitting atop the chest and holding the necklace in her hands. The clasp was a bright, clean silver that snapped easily together. None of the beads seemed to be missing, though the colors had begun to fade with age. She bit her lip, lifting herself and reaching into the chest and grabbing the journal. She took the twine binding off, opening it closer to the front cover.

  
  


_ September 8th, 1862 _

 

_ Mother’s condition seems to be getting worse.  She has spent the last week in her bedroom, and I can hear the sobbing when I pass by. Father says nothing on the subject. He will not even look at her. I attempted to ask him the other day at lunch if Mother was alright.  _

_ I have never been more terrified of him in my entire life than in that moment. The way he looked at me with complete contempt and malice, as if my very existence was insult to him and this disgusting empire he has built. I suppose in some way, it is. I asked Maisie what was wrong with Mother, and she told me in a hushed voice that Mother had lost another pregnancy.  _

_ The last time I remember Mother being pregnant, I was barely seven years old. Her stomach was swollen, and she wore the most beautiful linen gown. She smiled, rocking in her chair and embroidering something, her shiny auburn hair spiraling down over her shoulders. Father sat across from her, smoking his pipe and reading the paper. I played at her feet, looking up and asking if I was going to have a little brother or sister. “If God is good to us, you will have a little brother.” I remember seeing Father look around the newspaper. It was one of the few times I saw him genuinely happy. “I like the name Cole, Mother!” Father told me that was a good name. A strong name for a strong boy. I remember feeling proud, like I had said the right thing for once. _

_ Mother gave birth to Cole just a week shy from my eighth birthday. I was so excited to have a little brother, especially so close to my own birthday. I told Mother and Father I didn’t need a gift that year, I just wanted to see Cole.  _

_ He died two months later. They found him dead in his crib. Mother’s wails sound similar to those then. I wish I could do more to help her, but there is nothing I can do. Father says that when I am older and have had more time to develop, I will not have the same issues. He made that mistake with Mother and will not allow me to disappoint my future husband in such a way.  _

_ As I write this, I see Still River outside the window with his father as they break the earth for a new tree. There are several others trees in the surrounding area, a small white cross at the base of all of them. Despite Father’s callousness, I have seen him look at the trees when he believes no one is watching. I do not know if he truly can feel compassion or empathy for anything, but I would like to let myself believe he would have loved a son in a better way than he does me. _

 

Ana’s fingers wrapped tighter around the necklace. Any entry that included her grandfather were similar to this. Terrible. The way he spoke to both her mother and grandmother. The treatment of his slaves. Everything this man did was terrible.  She flipped further into the journal. Her mother recorded the more important events of her life, there were never any small entries that were just about a normal day in her life. Though Ana wished there were at least one like that. She found the one she was looking for.

 

_ April 13, 1865 _

 

_ Last night was terrifying in every sense of the word. Father has been planning a gala of sorts for me to meet suitable men to marry. It’s been the works for almost a year, and he was very insistent that I wear a particular dress. The issue is, this dress was made over a year ago and I was not with child then.  _

_ He noticed that the dress did not fit, particularly around my stomach. The look he gave me turned my blood to ice, asking how much I had been eating recently. Mother changed the subject, turned cross with the seamstress and accused her of tightening the gown without telling anyone. Father seemed to find that just as logical, as I do not show extremely yet. When he left the room, Mother gave me a knowing look. I want so badly to tell her, she deserves to know. But I cannot chance any of our safety.  _

_ The dance was horrible. All those men looking at me, or rather, Father’s money. I know he wanted a son and he has never let it escape from Mother’s thoughts that she failed him in that regard. I danced with several of them, and while they seem nice on the surface, I know how these men are. None of them will be like River. None of them will treat me the way he does.  _

_ I am terrified that Father will find out about the pregnancy. Let alone if he finds out the father is River. The way he talks about Indians, Blacks, Hispanics...it’s all terrible. The only reason I wasn’t married off at sixteen was because he thought the extra education would make me more appealing to high society.  _

_ I’m so pleased I was able to disappoint him in such a fashion. _

_ I have yet to tell River, though I must sooner than later. This is not something I can so easily hide, nor do I intend to get rid of this baby. It almost pains me to even consider that he would want something like that, but life is strange.  _

_ I will tell him tonight when I sneak out to meet him. If God has any mercy, things will go at least somewhat smoothly. _

 

She shut the journal, returning the binding back around the broken spine. She had other things to focus on right now, but the anger reminded her why she was doing this in the first place. The rest of the day passed without incident, as did the next and following one. While she hadn’t heard anything, she figured heading into town might start something. Ming-Ji had said she would get in touch with her, but if she didn’t leave camp, that would be a bit hard. 

Hosea had had some minor luck with Ming-Ji and moving into larger territory, but he learned more about her as he did so. “She ain’t nice, I can tell ya that much. Apparently a couple of months ago, someone tried to push her out of the area, take over.”

“What happened?” Lenny asked.

“She killed him herself. Peeled the skin off his face and put the body around where the folks of his gang had last been. That’s how the story goes, anyway.”   
“Jesus Christ,” Pearson breathed.

“I think it’s best if we keep things on the down-low, or look for other work outside the city. The...other stories about this woman don’t paint her any better of light. She owns the local police though, so we should just look for work that doesn’t interfere with anything she has.”

“Have you completely lost your spine, Hosea? From what you said, this woman is barely over five feet, and she doesn’t wear shoes. How could she possibly do anything that you’re sayin’, and what’s it matter if she does?” Dutch gave a light laugh. “We could handle anything she throws at us.” Hosea began to argue back. 

The next day, Ana found herself at the mansion after a dirt faced child caught her in the city. She  continued to find herself there, too. She was lucky enough to get off the hook from going on any jobs, saying that she was looking into leads in town and doing her best to come back with something whenever she lied about going hunting. She was equally lucky that Dutch had Arthur doing jobs that took him away from camp for the better part of the last two weeks. It made it easier to ignore the feeling her stomach when she looked at him.

She found herself in the sitting room that smelled like jasmine and sandalwood, scents she didn’t even know existed until Ming-Ji told her about them. They talked about a variety of things, and Ana found it increasingly easy to speak to her. Between the talks, Ming-Ji asked Ana to escort couriers around the city as a type of body guard and protection while she looked into the information. It was easy enough, though Ana felt somewhat uneasy about whatever they were delivering. 

They sat on the front veranda, looking out in the streets that bustled with stage coaches and people walking. “Tell me, how many have you robbed?” Ana felt the hibiscus tea burn her lungs as she coughed. “‘Scuse me?”

“Oh come now, that is not such an out there question.” Ming-Ji waved her hand outward towards the street, a humid breeze blowing towards them. “You told me you have been doing this for years, I imagine stage coaches are child’s play.”

“I ain’t one to keep tracka that sort of thing but,” she hit her chest, coughing. “More than a dozen, I suspect.” 

“I somehow expected more.” Ming-Ji teased.

“Oh how many you rob, Miss Tea?”

“Stagecoaches were not my thing, I robbed people. And more than a hundred.” Ana stared at her in disbelief. “Is that another joke that’s fallin’ flat?”

“On the contrary, my love.” She sipped, gently setting the cup down. “I have been stealing since I was eleven. I have been robbing since I was thirteen, and I have been dealing illegal arms and drugs since I was eighteen.” She gave a self-satisfactory nod.

“Speakin’ a that, you got any major work for me? I just...I wanna make sure I pay you for that information.”

“I have found something, and I believe you will be fine with your skill set.” Ming-Ji sighed. “But, I do have another matter I would like to discuss,” she turned her body towards Ana’s, leaning over the arm of the chair. “Would you care to join me in the city tonight? There is a lovely singer in town, or there is a play. Both are charming, from what I have heard.” 

“I’m sorry, did I hear you right? You wanna take me out somewhere?”   
“Is that so strange? I enjoy your company,”

“Why are you bein’ so nice to me?” Ana couldn’t hide the suspicion in her tone.

“You have been an excellent help. My employees say that they feel more than safe in your presence, and you have made deals to smoother. Perhaps it is the scar people find intimidating?” She pointed a finger towards the marred flesh on Ana’s face. “Though, I find them more attractive than scary.” Ana glanced away, feeling a little embarrassed. “And I do enjoy your company, Ana. It is not everyone I allow to visit for such lengths of time.”

“Why have you?”

“You are a formidable woman.” Ming-Ji sounded surprised she even had to tell her. “Beautiful, resourceful, many things.” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

“I been called a lot of things, and that one ain’t in the top ten.”

“Well, people have no taste these days.” The woman shrugged. “As you can see,” looking out into the street. Ana wasn’t sure if she meant their clothing or the men they walked with. 

“I..I don’t see why not.” She offered a nervous laugh while Ming-Ji clapped her hands together. 

“Splendid! I knew you would say yes, in fact, I have taken the liberty of getting you a new outfit for the occasion.”

“You..You got me clothes?”

“Please,” Ming-Ji stood, holding out a hand for Ana to take. “Do not take offense, but I did not think you would have anything to wear.”

Well. She wasn’t wrong. The nicest thing Ana owned was the green plaid shirt she had bought, and that had already seen its fair share of mud and sweat. She accepted her hand, surprised by how smooth the skin was along with the stark contrast in their skin color. Ming-Ji lead her through the bottom floor, stopping by a bathroom. “I have also prepared a bath, the clothes are on the counter.” She felt like a horse getting ready for some kind of show. “Thank you?” It was more a question than a statement. 

“You are most welcome, now please,” she shooed her past the door, shutting it. 

Ana stood there stiffly, balling up her fists and stretching her fingers back out. She glanced over to the counter, seeing the clothing laid out. The shirt was burgundy with golden filigree thread work on the shoulders that wove in intricate patterns that curled down either side of the buttons. Reaching out and touching it, it was nicer than anything she had ever touched before. The trousers were dark in color, complementing the shirt but the real treasure is that lay below them. Gold tipped black riding boots. The leather looked expensive, far more than anything she could ever afford. “Certainly not one for subtle,” Ana breathed. 

She stripped, dipping herself into the tub and starting to scrub herself. 

What was she doing? This was supposed to be business. Instead, she found herself getting ready to see a show with a woman who would more than likely shank her the first time Ana told her no. Yet.. she liked the way Ming-Ji looked at her. The way she spoke to her. It was nice. It was foolish, she thought, but she did enjoy the woman’s company. She scrubbed her face harder than she normally would. 

Once she assumed she was sufficiently clean, she stood from the sudsy water and grabbed the towel. Softer than sheep fur. She dried herself, dressing in the new clothes and taking a look at herself in the mirror. 

She felt awkward in the clothing. While it fit surprisingly well, she found the clothing was very fit to her form. Instead of the usual looseness she was used it, she felt more exposed now than she did when she was naked. Still, she took in a deep breath and exited the bathroom, heading for the sitting room. It was more than just the clothing, but she couldn’t quite place it.

Attempting to sit in a non-awkward position was difficult. Between the clothes and her nerves, anything was going to be uncomfortable. Ana bounced her leg, focusing on other things. “I am sorry to keep you waiting,” Ming-Ji appeared in the doorway and she would admit, this was the least amount of skin she had seen Ming-Ji show in her time of knowing her.

A high necked Charvet Corsage shirtwaist hugged her frame, the light yellow and finely plaited cambric cascading down the front. A straight skirt reached the ground, dragging slightly behind her while she clutched a white purse. A layer of foundation coated her face, rouge on her cheeks and lips but most surprisingly, her hair was down. Parted down the middle with two long pieces framing either side of her face. “You look mighty beautiful,” Ana stood, walking towards her. She wasn’t sure if it was the make up or the blush. “Thank you, my dear.” She stuck an elbow out. “Shall we?” Looping her arm through hers, they left.

The coach awaited outside, two large shire horses waiting to begin their job. “You ain’t ever worried about showin’ this much wealth off?” She asked as they climbed into the carriage.

“Of course not.” Was the simple answer. The carriage moved forward with a small jolt, and they were off. It wasn’t a terribly long trip, and Ana was sure they could’ve walked there in just a few minutes. Regardless, she exited the carriage first before offering a hand to Ming-Ji. She gave an amused look, taking her hand and easily stepping off before taking Ana’s arm once more and heading towards the box office. Ming-Ji purchased the tickets, the two of them heading inside.

She lead her down the carpeted corridor before stopping, gesturing to the staircase. “I have a special booth,” beginning to lead her up the steps. She followed suit, eventually finding them in a small balcony seat with heavily padded chairs. They took their seats as the lights dimmed.

The heavy, red velvet curtains pulled back with an announcer standing. He spoke briefly before a woman stepped out on the stage before everyone, offering a graceful bow before beginning to sing.  

It was enjoyable, to say the least. It was a break from having to deal with everything and everyone at camp. Though to be fair, she had been on this break for almost a month. They sat quietly next to one another, Ming-Ji leaning over eventually and placing her head against Ana’s shoulder, fingers wrapped around her forearm. A slight nervous feeling gripped her stomach. She knew nothing would happen with Ming-Ji, but…

Two other singers came out and performed. At the end, all three of them came out and took a bow together. The lights came back up, and Ming-Ji yawned ever so slightly before rising to her feet. They left the auditorium, stepping outside and feeling a cool breeze of air. She reached into her pocket, realizing that these were not hers and that she had left her pocket watch in her other pants. “It is a little past one,” Ming-Ji spoke, holding out her own. Slipping it back into her purse, they stepped back into the carriage.

They spoke about the performers. Well, rather, Ming-Ji spoke and Ana listened. She didn’t feel qualified enough to give an opinion beyond that she liked the way the women sounded. The ride back was shorter than she expected, stopping after what felt like just a few moments. They climbed out, making their way back to the mansion’s entrance. “You know,” Ming-Ji stopped, her fingers gripping the door handle. “You are more than welcome to spend the night here,”

“Oh, I appreciate that sentiment, and I know you got plenty of room but-”

“ _ With _ me.” Ming-Ji interrupted her to finish her own sentence.

_ Oh. _

Ana swallowed, coughing some. “You’re nothing if not bold, Ming-Ji.”

“You can just call me Ming, if that is easier.” She opened the door, sauntering through the threshold and crossing the linoleum floor. Her hips had more of a swing, casting a glance backwards. 

Ana cast a glance behind her before stepping inside, shutting the door behind her. “I just, uh. I need to get my clothes, then I need to get back to camp.”

“Surely you have  _ some _ time to spare for me, do you not?” A pout crossed the woman’s face, an obviously fake frown following. “Ming, you’re an awfully beautiful woman,” she froze as Ming walked back over to her, taking her hands in hers and holding them. “It’s just…” She still couldn’t believe how soft they were. “Just what?” Ming asked softly. What was Ana supposed to say? Something that she couldn’t even admit to herself?

“Ming, there you are! I was wondering when you would be getting h- Oh, hello! You must be the woman my daughter keeps mentioning.”

Their hands disconnected, Ming taking a step back. A small woman appeared in the entryway to the right of them, and Ana wagered she might actually be  _ shorter _ than Ming. Graying hair was swept up into a bun, a robe wrapped around her small frame while her slippers gave a soft  _ thwap _ against the hard floors. Dark circles clung under her eyes, but her smile was warm and genuine. “It is lovely to meet you.” 

“Likewise, Miss?” Ana extended a hand.

“Yun-Hee. I am Ming’s mother.”  She gingerly took her hand, giving a weak shake.

“Well, I see where Ming gets her looks.” Ana gave a small wink to Ming who, much to her surprise, looked distressed.

“Oho, a charmer!” The mother wagged a finger at her.

“Mother, what are you doing out of bed?” Ming’s voice changed to concern, and a different feeling settled in Ana’s body.

Jealousy.  
“Oh please, Ming. I am not some fragile piece of glass, I can still do things.” Her tone shifted, waving a hand towards her daughter. “As much as you believe me to be incapable of anything,”

“Mother!” Ming bent, gently taking her mother’s arm. She looked back to Ana. Embarrassment? Concern? She wasn’t sure. “I am just worried about your health. Did you take your medicine today?”   
“Yes, yes my dear. All of them, and Hyun-Ki has kept me company all day. Now please, may I make my own tea? Or are you worried I will drop the pot on myself?” 

Their language shifted from English to Korean, Ming leading her mother off somewhere in the house while Ana was left there. “Well, alright then.” She wasn’t sure what else to do, so she merely stood.

Several minutes passed before Ming re-entered the room. Her hair had been thrown back atop her head, and she looked frazzled. She paused when she saw Ana still standing there. “Oh. Your clothes.” Her hand gestured for her to stay there, disappearing before coming back with folded clothes and clean boots. “Here you are,”

“Sorry if I, uh, said somethin’ I wasn’t ‘sposed to.”   
“No, no. You are fine, Mother is just…” She wrung her hands together. “Mother does not meet my associates, or,” she gestured to Ana. “Friends. I do my best to keep her away from this sort of thing.” 

“She’s real lucky to have you as a daughter,” the words were sincere. Ming took note of that, a soft smile lighting up her face. “Do forgive me that I must rescind the offer of you staying here.”

“Mind if I ask somethin’ before I leave?”

“I believe I can arrange that.”

“Do you uh, enjoy the company of women?” A not so subtle way of asking. 

“As I said before, my darling,” A delicate hand stretched out, brushing some hair from Ana’s eyes. “I am a woman of taste, and whatever I believe I will like, I try.” She stepped around her, opening the door. “Please, do come back. Mother will bother me incessantly if you do not.” 

“I’ll do my best to make life easy on you, my lady.” Ana gave a small nod, leaving the mansion and returning to Bitters who was hitched just outside the gates. He blustered angrily as she drew near. “Oh, calm down. I got your sugar.” She stuffed the old clothes into a saddle bag, pulling out the sugar and offering it. He made a somewhat contented sound and licked her palm clean of any trace of sugar.

It was almost two o’ clock when she got back to camp. Tossing the reins down, the wave of tiredness hit her all at once. She didn’t even remember making it back to her tent. 

She awoke with her face buried in the furs, groaning before propping herself up on her elbows. That was quite the dream, wasn’t it? Ana smacked her lips together, turning over and rising from her makeshift bed. The sun wasn’t too high in the sky yet. Good, she hadn’t overslept too much. “Well good mornin’ there, sunshine.” Lenny waved at her from his seat, making her way over.

“Aye, the new clothes look nice, especially those boots. Where’d you get them?” Javier pointed his fork towards her feet. She looked down. 

The gold tips were staring back at her. “It’s called bein’ a woman. Drink ain’t the only thing men are willin’ to give for a night with a woman.”

“So, I take it that man no longer..?”   
“Gotta practice geldin’ somehow.” She answered. Lenny nonchalantly pressed his knees together. 

He set his plate down, standing and waving her over. “Mind helpin’ me with something?”

“‘Course.” She followed the young man over by the wagon, surprised by how quickly he turned to speak to her. “Who was that woman you was with last night?”   
“I, huh? What?” She stuttered out a variety of other words. “I-I wasn’t with anybody last night.”

“Don’t lie to me, Ana. I saw you outside that theatre with a decorated lady, real close, too.”

“Ok look,” she reached out, grabbing the upper part of his arm. “I got a lead, alright? Wealthy widow, big house and more jewelry than you can imagine. But, I’m tryin’ to build some kinda trust. I’m just trying to drag this out for as long as I can, okay?” She was lying through her teeth. Yet again.

Lenny pursed his lips, crossing his arms but seeming to accept what she was saying. “Alright, alright. Just… be careful, okay? Don’t need you out there gettin’ hurt.”

“I’m perfectly safe, Len. Don’t worry.” She patted his shoulder, turning around to find something else to do in the camp. She did change out of the clothes Ming gifted her and back into her old ones. The loose fit she appreciated more than she thought. 

She busied herself around camp with chores. Splitting logs, moving hay. She toted the bucket of water back to camp, lifting to dump it into the wash bin. “Thought you said no more lies,” Ana squeezed her eyes shut tightly, knowing exactly who it was behind her. “Well,” she started, voice tight. “You ever consider that was a lie?” 

“Ana.” The low, firm voice again. She dumped the contents of the bucket before dropping it next to the barrel. Turning around to face him, she leaned against said barrel. “Lenny mentioned seein’ you last night with a real fancy lady,”

“And? I gotta remind you that I  _ do _ like fancy women?” She crossed her arms, noticing the way his jaw hardened. “A fancy  _ Asian _ woman? Cause I think I’ve only seen the one,” his tongue poked the inside of his mouth, taking a step forward. “And she’s as dangerous as a rattlesnake.”

“You ain’t even been here hardly for two weeks. Dutch got you out on all sortsa jobs and I’m just tryin’ to do the same. ‘Sides, I gotta pay her back for the information she’s gettin’ me.” If she could’ve slapped herself, she would have. His eyes narrowed, blue eyes turning icy. “What information.” 

She worked her mouth, bouncing her leg again. “Names. Locations. Certain things.”

“Oh, goddammit, Ana.” He groaned.

“I done told you I wasn’t givin’ up on this,”

“Oh, I’m well aware.” He growled. “But you went to  _ her _ ? You know she’s dangerous, Hosea couldn’t even get a damn job with her and you’re out here goin’ to shows with her.” 

“She ain’t that bad, Arthur, honest.”

“You even listenin’ to yourself? What, you see a pretty woman and stop thinkin’? Whatchu think she’s gonna do the second she gets tired of your ‘help’, or decides you’re a loose end?” 

“If I ain’t gotta listen to you mother me, I think I’d take whatever would happen.” She snapped back. He took in a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself. “Just… what is this job?”

“I ain’t sure, she didn’t tell me yet. I’m ‘sposed to go back tomorrow, get the details and do it.” 

“You ain’t doin’ it.”

“Excuse me?”

“She knows you’re with this group, she  _ knows _ Hosea and Dutch been pokin around. You ain’t dumb enough to think for a second this isn’t some trap?” 

“I can handle myself!” She shot back. “I took care of myself a lot longer than I been with y’all!” 

“Just,” he held his hands level with his hips, palms down. “Can you just think about this for one second?”   
“If you’re so concerned, come with me then. I’ll pay you my damn self if you shut up.”  They stared at each other for a moment, Ana being the next one to speak. “I’m leavin’ by noon tomorrow. Either you’re there, or you ain’t.” She shouldered past him, ending the conversation. 

The found themselves outside the mansion, arms crossed and not looking at each other. 

They hadn’t spoke since the argument the other day. “Just tell ‘er that you can’t do what you said. Find your information some other way.” 

“I ain’t doin’ that, Arthur.”

“Can’t you stop bein’ stubborn for one goddamn minute and just listen to some sense?” She faced him, giving a toothy grin. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely not.”  She turned back to the gate, noticing that it was a different servant than the one who had been here every other time she had come. A small statured man, opening the gate without a word and guiding them in. 

“Miss Quan is in the second sitting room,” He spoke as Ana and Arthur removed their boots. She knew the rules by now. “We can find her,” 

“What, you know the layout? How many times you been here?” He whispered harshly to her. She shushed him, leading the way. 

The musical sounds of a piano drifted through the hallway, and the two of them stopped just in front of an entryway. This room was different than the other. Floral couches sat positioned towards a grand piano. Polished wood catching the afternoon sunlight and in the corner, a large harp towered. Ming’s mother sat on the couch, her back facing them while Ming plunked away on the keys. “Ah, Ana! It is so lovely to see you,” stopping immediately when she caught sight of her. She stood, pausing briefly. “I did not know you would be bringing your associate.”

“Believe me, I didn’t either.” She mumbled, taking a step forward. A low growl suddenly caught her attention.

“Mother, may I speak with our guests alone?”  Yun-Hee sighed in response. 

“Very well, I will take a walk. Assuming, I am allowed?”

“Mother,” her voice was strained. 

“I am joking, Ming. Please, you must learn what a joke is.” She struggled to stand, shuffling her way towards the door while a large, fawn colored dog followed her. Once she was out of sight, Ming offered the two of them to sit. 

“I assume this meeting is for business rather than pleasure?” Ming toyed with a fingernail.

“‘Fraid so.” Arthur answered stiffly, earning a side glance from the woman.

“A pity. Regardless, it is not too difficult.”

“Gotta be somethin’ important if you’re hirin’ extra muscle.” Arthur interrupted.

“You are not a very trusting man are you, Mr. Morgan?” Ming raised a brow.

“Ain’t in my nature to trust snakes.” 

Ming gave a small, dry laugh. “If I were a snake, I would have bitten by now. They are not known for having patience.” 

“Where do I need to go, Ming?” Arthur shot her a look that seemed in disbelief she was on a first name basis with this woman. “You ain’t seriously still doin’ this?”

“I promised I would and I intend to pay for this information, now if you would stop tryin’ to undermine me in every damn thing I do, I would appreciate it!” 

“It ain’t underminin’ I’m just tryin’ to make sure you don’t get your reckless self killed!” They faced each other, Ana’s nostrils flared with anger.

“It’s a peace offering.” Ming interrupted them. “An old business partner attempting to make amends with me. I find it quite nice that he is willing to put aside his pride,” she glanced towards Arthur, “for something that will benefit everyone. Regardless, you will go to the meeting spot and accept the deal. I can not go due to...arrangements, and you have no personal loyalty to me. You are paid, contract work. Very simple.” She continued.

“When you come back I will have: maps, names, aliases, locations and the jobs of these men and the names of at least the last two cities they have been in.”

“That sounds like a deal,” Ana spoke, side eyeing an unhappy looking Arthur. “Just tell me where to go.” 

“Head East out of town, the city he asked to meet in is directly that way. It is easy to spot. He said to meet behind the gun store.”  

“Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure, now, off you go. The sooner you are out, the sooner you are back. Though if I may borrow Ana for a moment, my dear?” 

Arthur said nothing, grunting and heading back off towards the front door. Ming quickly took the seat next to Ana. “He cares about you a great deal. _. _ ” Ana glanced in the direction that Arthur left.

“You sure? ‘Cause he just seemed like a jackass to me.”

“Men are rarely anything but.” Ming rested a hand on Ana’s leg. “I suspect the company he keeps has not given him the best romantic sense, or a tactful one.” 

Ana cleared her throat, unsure of how to answer this.

“My apologies, then.” Ming patted her knee, signaling it was time for her to stand. “You know the way out.”

“Give your best to your mother for me,” Ana stood, nodding and heading to find Arthur. She found him busy pulling the boots over his feet, and she couldn’t help but think for a moment of what Ming said. Was it really because he cared? 

“Look, I ‘preciate this.” Ana grunted, mounting up. He grumbled something under his breath, beginning the easy trot East. 

It was an easy enough ride, and the city soon came into view. It looked almost like a replica of the one Ming controlled. Tall grey buildings, a factory somewhere in the distance pumping smog into the air. “Where exactly is we going?” Arthur asked, waving a hand in front of his face to move the smoke from in front of him. “Behind the gun store. Supposed to be a little court yard or somethin’ that’s where we’re gonna meet this feller.” She would be the first to admit that the lack of hard direction did unsettle her a bit, but part of her wanted to trust Ming. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but she did. 

Regardless, they found the place soon enough. Down a cobblestone road, a sign in the shape of a gun hung and swung loosely in the breeze. “Should be right through here.” Ana spoke, dismounting and waiting for Arthur to follow her. They made their way through the tunnel that fed into the courtyard, a simple area where people presumably came to relax and talk to one another. Instead, this was going to be an area of negotiation. She hoped, anyway. 

A bald man sat in a patio chair, languidly lounging before he saw her and stood. He had two other men with him, heads both shaved. The man one had a handlebar mustache, hands on his hips while she stood in front him. “You the one Quan sent? You ain’t look like her regulars.”

“New business associates.” Ana offered in return, shrugging her shoulders slightly. The man was maybe an inch taller than her, and much more muscular, enough to try and attempt some type of intimidation. “Right.” He reached into the his jacket and pulled out an envelope, holding it out at arm’s length. Ana looked at it, slightly quizzical. “Money.” He said simply. “From the boss. Tryin’ to make amends with Miss Quan.” 

“She said that she was dealin’ with the man directly.”

“And she said that’d she be sendin’ regulars,” he shrugged his shoulders lightly, flicking his wrist some to encourage her to take the fat envelope. Quickly, she reached out her hand and took it, holding it in her hands and looking at it. “Right so, anything else you wanna tell her?” This was too easy, wasn’t it?

“Yes, that our boss sa-” his sentence was abruptly interrupted by a spray of blood from his skull. She took a step back, gripping the letter before ducking behind the nearest row of potted plants while gunfire began. What the hell was happening!? She reached for her pistol, leaning out and firing several shots before ducking back. Arthur was across from her behind the plants as well, offering a few shots here and there before the area began to settle. Ana peered from her spot, panting heavily and looking around the area. The man she spoke to had a pool of dark red around his head, as did several of his compatriots. “Jesus christ,” Ana let out a breath, sliding the envelope into her jacket.

“I  _ told  _ you this was a mistake.” Arthur growled, shoving his pistol into his holster.

“Oh, c’mon, you don’t even know what this was about!” He looked at her, giving her a look she couldn’t quite decipher. Or one she didn’t want to. “You know exactly what this was, a set up and we walked clean into it!”   
“Arthur,” Ana pinched the skin between her eyes. “Can you just, for one minute, not be yourself?”   
“Oh, I’m sorry princess that I wanna live and not keep gettin’ into situations like this!”

“You acted like you were comin’ regardless! Your ass coulda stayed at camp and you  _ know _ it!” She barked back. She held her hands up almost defensively. “Enough. We need to just get back, give Ming this money and get my information.The sooner the better, right?” She turned her palms upside down, shrugging her shoulders. Arthur said nothing, scowling instead and leaving back the way they came.

She wasn’t sure how anyone dealt with him. Better yet how  _ she _ dealt with him.

The ride back was, as usual, silent. Neither one had anything to say to one another that wasn’t an insult in some type of way, so they stayed quiet. When they finally reached Ming’s home again, Arthur almost seemed like he wanted to stay outside. “Just get it done and over with,” he complained as Ana hit the side of his boot. “Just get down. Won’t take more than a minute.”    
“If it ain’t gonna take more than a minute, then just  _ go. _ ” Sour-faced jackass. Ana waved him off dismissively and turned to do the routine. The usual stiffness of the gate sentry and taking off her boots. This time, Ming sat in the first sitting room with a bowl in front of her. She waved her into sit, raising a pigmented piece of paper out of the bowl and looking at her. “I trust you have good news? You were gone for a few hours.”

“Yeah, got this.” Ana reached into her jacket, pulling forth the envelope. “But,” she raised it to the side of her head. “The guy givin’ us this got shot.” 

Ming look unsurprised.

“Ah yes, that.” She raised the piece of paper to her lips, pressing it between them before pulling back and looking at the both of them. Dark red stained her lips, and she realized that was how she achieved the look. “It was planned. I am assuming the man was taken care of?”   
“You...planned that?” Ana asked, almost in disbelief.

“But of course. I planned to take out that leader for months.” Ming set the paper down, laughing almost. “He backstabbed me, my dear. Did you really think I could let that pass?”

“You coulda told me.” Ana found the words falling from her lips before she could stop herself.

“Ah, you are hurt.” Ming  _ tsked _ her tongue lightly before shaking her head. “Ana, this is business. I do not mince anything when it comes to things like this. I could have told you, yes, but that jeopardized everything else I put into planning.”

“But it wasn’t even the leader who came to the meetin’. Was some bald feller who said you’d be sending regulars.” Ming made a face, twisting her mouth and giving a small sigh.

“Then it appears we are both liars, and it would seem I have yet another job for you, my dear.”

Arthur stood outside the home for what seemed like forever. If she was just handing off the money, why was it taking so long? He took a long inhale from the cigarette and was about to toss it when he was finished before he realized that was probably not the best option. Instead, he looked  around, catching sight of a hanging fern stuffing it inside the pot. Just in time too as Ana emerged from the house, shutting the door behind her and heading down the steps without speaking to him. “Woah, woah, slow down there.” He hurried down the steps to match her pace. “Everything turn out fine?”   
“Yeah, perfectly.” She muttered, hoisting herself up onto Bitters. In true cranky, bastard fashion, Bitters snapped in the direction Arthur when he deemed that he was too close. “Hey, watch it,” he raised a finger to the horse in warning. “Well, did you at least get what you wanted?” Ana gave a small nod in response, gesturing for him to get on his horse. “I just wanna get back to camp, okay? Figure all this out there.” There was something off, but he figured it was better to not push it. 

At camp he watched her hastily removed the gear from Bitters that would make him uncomfortable before heading off on her own somewhere in camp. Something was different. There was a shift in her demeanor and he’d seen this before when she stopped drinking. Over the next two days, Ana was there but she wasn’t at the same time. She tried to laugh with the group but there was something empty, something hollow in each one she forced. Her eyes seemed distant, distracted by things that weren’t there. Pushing would only cause her to bite, and so he only did what he thought he could do. He just asked if she was okay, both morning and evening. She replied yes each time and gave a small smile in return.

It was enough, he figured.

She caught Arthur just beyond the tree line that night, rifle steady in his heads. “Hey you,” she began. He gave a glance behind her, pale moonlight finding its way through the branches to his shoulders. “Kinda got you a present, I guess.” Ana shook the bottle in her hand. A crystal decanter liquor bottle, the insides sloshing slightly. “You got me brandy?”

“Wasn’t real sure what you liked, and my taste is anything that comes in a gallon and costs under three bucks,” there was a joke hidden in there somewhere. “And ‘sides, figured you deserve somethin’ kinda nice for dealin’ with me through all that.” Her feet moved before she could think of what to do next, standing next to him.

The area was quiet. Logs crackled in scout fire not too far from them, an occasional frog making itself known. “Really, I appreciate it. You...been doin’ a lot for me, and I know I ain’t the easiest to deal with. God knows I was even worse just a couple months ago but,” she playfully gave his arm a light push. “You ain’t shot me yet.”

“Yet being the key word. And drinkin’ on guard duty ain’t exactly the best course of action.” He gave a slight nod towards her hand. “Not sayin’ you gotta drink it now.”  

He leaned the rifle against the tree, reaching out to take the bottle from her. He grabbed both her hand and the bottle. The calloused fingers ran over the back of her hand, both of them staring at the bottle instead of each other. Her heart skipped a beat. Mouth dryer than a cotton field in the middle of a drought. Thoughts went faster than a race horse in the derby. “I’m...I’m sure you got better things to spend your money on than liquor for some sour faced old man,” Arthur suddenly spoke. He cleared his throat, though he still didn’t move his hand.

She wasn’t moving her hand either. “You ain’t a bad lookin’ man, Arthur.”

“Ain’t it good for me-” he was interrupted.

Ana’s other hand raised, gently pressing against the stubble of his cheek. Her thumb resting on his cheek bone. Even in the low light, she could see the surprise on his face. The subtle hitch in his breath when her fingers touched him. The way he slightly moved away from her touch before making himself stay still. The hair was rough under her skin, gently running her thumb along the bone before tracing down to his jawline. He watched her, almost fearfully it seemed. As if she were going to see something she wouldn’t like if she stared too long. Her hand moved slowly, trying to memorize the shape and structure of his face, lingering on the scar that marked his chin. 

Before she knew what she was doing, she took a step forward. One of her feet between his, bodies just barely apart while her lips met with his. Arthur’s lips were chapped. But it was soft. There wasn’t a heavy push from either of them, but she could feel the pressure from him returning the sentiment. He pulled away only slightly before kissing her again, reaching up and curling his fingers around her palm. Arthur squeezed it softly. 

She felt dizzy. Incredibly so. She wanted to kiss him more than she realized, how much she missed the way human connection had felt. The warmth of his hand, the way his breath felt against her skin when he broke apart, and the way he looked at her after the kiss ended. 

“You got bad taste in men,” he quietly finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY!!! WE'RE IN IT NOW!!!


	8. Red Herring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no excuse for being this late lmfao. but i did get into grad school so that's hella cool 8). also. minor perspective change! i guess that's what we'll call it! i don't know!

At least she hadn’t gone back to ignoring him. The kiss they shared the previous night hadn’t lead to anything - not that he would let it. For multiple reasons. She laughed when he told her she had bad taste in men, to which she promptly replied she wouldn’t know. Ana had sat with him for a little while longer on his guard shift, her hand resting atop his while they stared off towards the road they used to enter and exit the camp. They didn’t speak much, but he wouldn’t deny that the company of her was nice. The next morning, he half expected her to start avoiding him like he had consumption.

Much to his surprise, that was not the case. She didn’t shift or leave when he sat next to her during breakfast, and was even more surprised that she handed him the tin cup full of coffee, a small smile pulling at the corner of her scarred mouth. It was a strange feeling. The only other time he felt like this had been around two other women: Mary and Eliza. Ana knew little of Mary, just that whatever engagement they had didn’t end well, and she knew nothing of Eliza. He knew more about Elizabeth than she did about his own past lovers, and in some way, he felt a small bit of guilt. 

But Arthur wasn’t one much for words, or talking in general. He felt more like a fool around her lately than he had in quite a while, and he wondered if she had the same thoughts. It was a stupid thing to waste time thinking about, and he knew that. 

Hosea and Dutch had been having a time of arguing with one another. Dutch insisted that they push for something bigger, also demanding that he speak to Ming-Ji himself while Hosea continually told him that he shouldn’t push these things, especially not with her. 

“So that lady tell you what you want, or nawh?’ Arthur asked, finding Ana on the outskirts of camp for her turn on duty. “Not exactly.” She hadn’t said anything about it since they got back to camp, and she didn’t seem to eager on returning to the city either. “Since I technically didn’t get the job done, I gotta do somethin’ else before I get any information.”

“Figures she’d pull somethin’ like that.”

“Don’t go tellin’ me you told me so, cause I’m already feelin’ like an idiot anyways.” She rolled her eyes, setting them forward and crossing her arms. “I wasn’t gonna.” It didn’t even feel good to be right in this instance. He wanted Ana to have her information. Be done with all of this revenge business and that then maybe they would…

Well, he didn’t know what they  _ would  _ do, but he knew what they  _ could _ do if this was done with.

“She say what it was?”

“Yeah, still with that same feller. Dunno what he did to her but she’s out to get him somethin’ fierce.”

“Think he knocked over a fancy cup?” She laughed, and he could feel the heat start to burn his cheeks. He liked her laugh. “Wouldn’t doubt it, but she’s got a whole cabinet,” she shrugged her shoulders slightly. “But,” she continued. “She ain’t told me when or the next things gonna happen. So, got some time to kill I ‘spose.”

“Ah, I’m sure Dutch’ll think of somethin’ for you to do.” He clapped her shoulder and gave a short nod, turning and heading back towards his tent.

Sitting down on the cot, he opened up the journal and tilted to the slide, a practiced motion that always spilled the pencil directly into his waiting palm. Arthur set the pencil against it, the loops of his handwriting quickly filling the page. 

_ I am not sure where I stand with Ana _ _ stasia,  _ _ she was a mess when she joined up with us, but it seems that she’s making an honest effort to get better - do better; more than I could ever say for myself. I can’t rightly judge anyone, but it has been good seeing her in better spirits. Things between us have not been uncomfortable since she kissed me a few days ago, but we haven’t said anything else about it.  _

Rambling, that’s all he was doing. He snapped the journal shut after putting the pencil back into its place, stuffing it back into its home inside his bag. He looked around camp and stood, stretching before setting off to find something to do.

Things had fallen into a routine, and the camp was beginning to feel homey, at least as much as it could. Ana still hadn’t heard anything from Ming-Ji, despite going to town on several different occasions and Arthur hadn’t seen anything either, even when he worked with Hosea on a few different things. The others seemed quite pleased being so close to a saloon that had an adequate supply of liquor, and higher shelf drinks.

“I know you’re like my family,” Lenny suddenly began one day while he and Arthur were heading back to camp. “And I known you longer, but if I gotta kick your ass Arthur, I will.” Arthur looked over to Lenny’s horse, comically smaller in stature and height than his own. “The hell you on about?” He laughed. “Ana.” Lenny was completely serious. “She ain’t said much and I know you’re decent, despite what you wanna go and tell folk, Arthur, but she’s family to me too.” Ana practically treated Lenny like a younger brother, and the two of them did have a bond even at the beginning when Ana first came on board. She saved him when she had no right to, and Lenny had been kind despite what the rest of them had done. “I ain’t doin’ nothin’ to hurt her, Len.” Was all he could offer in response. 

But was that even true? None of his past relationships had gone well, and he couldn’t protect Eliza and Isaac when they needed him. Part of him thought even what they had done now was hurting them both in a way that would hurt longer than either wanted.  His thoughts didn’t make any sense at this point. He wanted to spend more time with her, but at the same time, he felt that it was a bad idea. She wasn’t balking when he came near. Things had been pleasant, to say the least. 

Most of the time they spent together had been going after those men, or the few breaks when they went hunting or fishing. How would he even ask? Heading towards the middle of camp, he saw Ana and Uncle sitting near the fire, and could overhear the conversation as well. “So, you was really married to a woman?” 

“Yes.” Even from this far away, he could hear a tightness in her voice. 

“And you ain’t ever been with a man?”   
“Can’t say I have.” Arthur felt something pull on his pant leg, looking down and seeing a young Jack holding onto him, looking up and smiling. Tousled brown hair and bright eyes, Arthur bent to pick him up, Abigail suddenly appearing. “I’m sorry, he got away from me.”

“Awh, ain’t no trouble, Abigail.” In truth, he loved Jack. He’d spent the better half of some nights trying to lull him into sleep while John was away doing whatever the hell it was he was doing. He was about to say something else before his attention tuned back to the fire, a loud grunt being heard. Ana’s fist was tightly clenched by her side, towering over a crumpled Uncle. “Say somethin’ like that again, I fuckin’ dare ya.” 

“‘Scuse me,” Arthur quickly handed Jack off to his mother, hurrying over just in time as she reared her leg back, readying for a kick. He bent slightly, grabbing her around the waist and quickly turning to the side so she kicked at nothing instead of Uncle. “Put me down you sonofabitch!” She yelled out, her hands against his arms while she tried to squirm away. “You better stop swipin’ like a feral cat then!” She seemed to calm down slightly, relaxing in the grip while he turned her completely away form Uncle and set her down.

“Alright, c’mon, you need time to cool off.”   
“I do  _ not _ ,” Ana spoke sharply, though Arthur had already grabbed her arm and began pulling her away. “What I  _ need _ ,” she raised her voice, turned her head back towards Uncle and shouted. “Is that old leach to get some goddamn manners!” The laughter increased. He walked her over to the horses, gesturing for her to get on. He saddled up quickly, extending an arm down for her to join him. “I got my own horse.” She spoke at his hand, not him. “Get on the damn horse, Anastasia.” He gripped his hand a little more firmly than necessary. “It’s  _ Ana. _ ” She sat behind him, settling her hands on his waist, gripping the fabric when the horse started with more movement than she anticipated. “Where are we even goin’?” Judging from her voice, he assumed she was looking back at the camp.

“Somewhere you ain’t inclined to hit useless, old men.” He kept the horse at a steady pace, a huff coming from the woman behind him. “Whatever. Don’t see why I gotta be the one to have a time out,”

“Just shut yer mouth for five minutes.” And surprisingly, she did. Her hands moved from him, and taking a small glance back showed that her arms were crossed against her chest.

Well, it wasn’t off to a great start. 

They rode in silence for a few minutes longer, Arthur beginning to slow the horse as they passed a shore by a nearby lake. He got off the horse first, noticing that Ana raised a brow to him curiously. He said nothing, turning and walking towards the water’s edge. He bent, scanning the sands for a moment before picking up a smooth, flat rock. Standing straight again, he angled his hand before throwing the rock at the water’s edge. The splashes against the top were soft, skidding several times before sinking into the water. Ana suddenly appeared beside him, a small smile at the corner of her mouth. “So what, you just wanna throw rocks at the water?” 

“Beats throwin’ punches, don’t it?” He felt that she was about to disagree, but she instead picked up a rock and hucked it at the water. It hit the surface and sank immediately. 

“Can’t shoot a straight a line and can’t skip a rock, what exactly  _ can _ you do?” He joked, and this time, a small snort came from her. “Sorry I ain’t spent much time honing the craft of rock tossin’.” Arthur picked up another, skidding it across the water and earning several skids. Ana picked up another, trying to emulate his movements. It skipped once before sinking. Throwing the rocks must’ve generated a lot of heat, the woman stopping for a moment before shrugging off the jacket she wore and tossing it back towards the grass.

In the old, grey union shirt she wore, Arthur realized this was the most of her had seen since they had known each other. It was unusual, seeing her chest unbound. He overheard her speaking to Lenny once and said there was no point anymore, everyone at camp knew, and she wasn’t likely to travel by herself for some time. Despite the semi-looseness of the shirt, the muscles of her arms were still plainly visible as she bent her arm and threw the rocks. The top buttons of the shirt had gone missing, either from years of wear or torn off, but opened the shirt and allowed him to see some of her sweat covered collarbone. Clearing his throat, he turned back to the water and threw another rock. It sank.

They spoke briefly, mostly throwing jokes at one another about how bad the other was until the sun slowly began to set. In a brief moment when nothing was thrown, he heard the growl of a stomach. “I didn’t eat ‘fore we left.” She admitted almost sheepishly. “Was gonna but Uncle ruined my appetite.”

“Well, ain’t you lucky we’re at a lake and I’ve got poles.” The extra had been in case his older one finally snapped. He walked to the saddle bags and pulled out the disassembled rods, passing one over to her.  “Heard some of the locals say this lake is called Sturgeon lake, only thing they seem to catch is bass, though.” Arhur added. 

“So, more of a Red Herring lake, huh?”  He stared at her in disbelief as he baited the line.

“You proud of that?”   
“More than I should be,” she smiled a toothy grin. 

True as the locals had said, they had no luck catching sturgeon, though there were plenty of bass. With several each, Ana set on making the fire while Arthur cleaned the fish. Smoke trailed up through the air, the two of them sitting around. “Thanks for doin’ this.” She spoke, turning the piece of fish over the fire. “Doin’ what?” 

“I’ll remember to add modesty to your list of traits,” she rolled her eyes. “For takin’ me outta camp, throwin’ rocks with me.” 

“Skippin’ rocks.” He corrected. Arthur turned his knife, one side of the fish already well seared. 

“Who taught you?” She asked.

“Hosea. Might come as a surprise but I was an angry kid,” she feigned a look of surprise. “Got into fights with fellers twice my size, had a bad attitude in general. Happened one day after I got into a scrap with some kid in a town, stuck me on the back of his horse and took me out the lake nearby. Told me I had to start thinkin’ with my head instead of my fists.” He shook his head slightly. “Hoseas got a thing for lost causes, in case you couldn’t tell.” She snorted a laugh.

“That happen often, Hosea steppin’ in?” The fire cracked.

“He’s been there through the worst of it, done what he could. Bessie did too, when she was alive. I.. I ain’t told hardly anybody but,” he looked at the fire, feeling his jaw tense. “When I lost my boy, Isaac and his momma? Wasn’t a good time, for anybody.” 

He kept his attention towards the fire for a moment, avoiding whatever look she had on her face. Pity was the last thing he wanted. “When did you lose them?” There was a softness he hadn’t heard in her voice. “Bout three years ago.” A tightness in his chest formed.

“Ain’t nobody deserve that. We,” she paused. “We ain’t gotta talk about it, if you don’t wanna.”     
“‘Preciate that.” He regretted speaking almost as soon as he opened his mouth. Ana said nothing else, shifting from her spot and moving to his side of the fire. There was still enough distance between them, what he figured was comfortable for her. Her hand reached out to his on the ground, laying atop his and squeezing slightly. Something rushed over him, the tightness in his chest releasing, muscles relaxing.

Peace was a feeling that didn’t come often with this life, but this was one of the rare times where nothing else in the world existed. 

Just the two of them.

Before long they put out the fire and went back to camp, returning to the usual distance between them and back to other things that needed their attention. 

A few days later, they found themselves back in town. Ana seemed jittery - more so than usual, and he noticed a small shakiness in her hands. “You ain’t been drinkin’ again, have ya?” 

“No,” she answered. “Think it’s just the waitin’ that’s getting to me.” They turned down a street, the smell of food coming from the local restaurant. There was a rustling noise and then the clatter of metal, a stray dog picking through the remains of food that had been tossed out. White and black fur was coated in a layer of dirt, tail curled between its legs while it looked for scraps. Its ears perked up when their footsteps drew closer, looking to them before wagging its tail happily. “Hey boy!” Ana suddenly spoke, quickening her pace and bending to scratch the dog’s ears. 

The dog sat down, leaning into her scratches, pink tongue lolling from his mouth. He noticed it had one blue eye and one brown. “You found yourself a stray to get attached to?” A hint of amusement in his voice, though he would admit, he had a soft spot for dogs. 

“He was hungry.” She said quite plainly, patting his head. “I got extra money, and besides, he likes to follow me ‘round town. Makes me feel a little safer.” Arthur got on one knee, extended a hand facing downwards and let the dog sniff it before attempting to pet him. Happily, the dog was more than eager to get affection from two people rather than one. “Friendly, like Copper was.” 

“Copper?”

“Stray huntin’ dog I found as a puppy. Sheesh, feels like forever ago when I got ‘em, begged Hosea and Dutch to let me keep ‘em, and they did.” He grinned, thinking back to the hound curled up by the side of his cot. “Used to take baths with me, too,” 

“You took baths with yer dog?” The sound of a snort was poorly muffled, glancing up at her and seeing her lips pressed tightly together, a smile painfully apparent on her face. “Yea? Why waste bathwater?” A wheezing laughter erupted from her, earning the dogs attention. “It ain’t funny!” Her laughter begged to differ. He grimaced, waiting for her to regain her composure before asking if she was done. “I think so,” she still laughed between the words, wiping at her eyes. He stood, crossing his arms and looking at her. “Oh c’mon, you’ve gotta get a sense of humor, Arthur.” Before he could respond, he peered around her and saw a kid walking up to them.

While he didn’t look dirty, there was something shabby about his appearance. Red rings around his eyes, greasy hair and clothes that were a little too big for him. It reminded him of when he was around this boy’s age. “You Anastasia?” The kid spoke with an accent, though he couldn’t place from where. 

“It’s Ana.” Arthur caught himself saying it before he even realized it.

“I’m ‘sposed to come find you,” clearly ignoring what he had said to him. “Miss Ming has more work for ya.”

“Did she say what?” Ana asked.

“S’bove my paygrade, lady. Just ‘sposed to find ya, tell ya, and make sure ya go there now.”  They looked at each other for a moment, Ana offering a small shrug of her shoulders before holding out an arm and gesturing for the kid to lead them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for this being shorter than usual but next chapter will be jam packed full o' SHIT


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